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POEMS, 
WILLIAM COWPER, ESa. 

TOOETUER WITU 1118 

POSTHUMOUS POETRY, . 

A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE 
BY JOHN JOHNSON, LL, D. 

THREE VOLUMES IN ONE. 

NEW ElimON. 

BOSTON 
PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, & CO , 

110 WASHINCiTON STKKKT. 
1853. 






\"e^5. 



5'7«'5f 



CONTENTS 

or 
TIIE FIRST VOLUME. 



Table Talk, Jl 

Progress of Errour, • • • -32 

Truth, • * - - -49 

Expostulationy « • • • • G5 

Hope, ^. 

Charity, • • • - - 166 ' 

Conversation, * • . • • J34 

-4lMirement, • - - - - 149 

The Yearly Distress, of Tithing Time at Stock m '^^ 

Essex, - - . . . ITt 

Sonnet to Henry QtoWper, Esq. • •174 

Lines addressed to Dr. Darwin, • • 173 

.•-On Mrs. Montagu's Feather- Hangings, J136 

--Verses,' supposed to be written by Alexander 
Selkirk during his abode in the Island of 
Juan Fernandez, .... 178 

On the promotion of Edward Thnrloir, Esq. to 

the Chancellorship of England, • -180 

Ode to Peace, - - • - 181 

Httmah Frailty, • - • - 182 

The Modem Patriot, • - - - 183 

On observing some names of little Note recorded 

in the Biographia Britannica, * - - 184 

Report of an adjudged Case, not to be found in 

any of the Books, ... ibid. 

On the Burning of Lopd Mansfield^ Library, 186 

I On the Same, • - *- - • 187 

J J The "Love of the World i»eproved, - - 188 T 

- 1 \ ^" tHe death of Lady Throekmorton*8 Bulfinch, Iftl^fffiT .,1 r- — 

I ^The Rose, 196^ ' 

The D!»ve8, - - - - - 199 

K FaljleV ' . - - • - 194 ' 





4 CONTE.NTS. 


' 






A. Coriiparison, 




195 




Another, addressed to a young Tindy, 




196 




Tlie Poet's New Years Gift, 




.bid. 




Ode to ApoUo, 




197 




t Pairing Time anticipated, a Fabje, . 




198 


V 


^ J^p^lie Dog and the Water Lily, 

\ The Poet, the Oyster, and the Sensitivo Plant, 


^ 




The Shrubbery, - 


• 


204 




The Winter Nosegay, 


- 


205 


{ 


Mutual Forbearance necessary to the hapjunofls 




^w, ofthe Married State, « 
'^.^'he Negro's Complaint, - 
-iPity for poor Africans, 


- 


206 

m 


\ 


-il~ 


I The Morning Dream, 


- 


212 


vl 


-^^■If^he Nightingale -and Glow-worm, 




On a Goldfinch starved Id death in his 


Cago, 


215 




The Pine Apple and the Bee, # 




216 




Horace, Book II. Ode X. - 




217 




A reflection on the foregoing' Ode, 




218 




The Lily and the Rose, - 




219 




. Idem, Latino Redditum, - 




220 




**The Poplar Field, - 




221 




Idem, Latine Redditum, • 




222 




Votum, - - 




223 




Translations from Vincent Bourns, 






Cicindela, - - 




228 




The Glow-worm, 




234 




• Cornicula, - - - - 




225 




The Jackdaw, - «v 




226 




Ad Grillum. Anacreonticum, - 




J>27 ' 




The Cricket, 




229 




Simile agit in simile, - , - 




230 




The Parrot, - - - 




231 




1 Translation of Prior's Chloe and Euphelia, 


232 




A VThe History of John GUpin, 


- 


233-^ 




^^ Epistle to an afflicted Protestant Lady 


\n France 


, 24^ *"*'*'^'^ 




To the Rev. W. C. Unwin, 




244 



. .: .■■...■.,.i^\ 

• . •. \ r .: ■: - ^ i / /; 



PREFACE 



THE FIRST VOLUME. 



When an Author, hy appearing in print, request* 
an audience <^ the publick, and is upon the point of 
speaking for himself, whoever presumes to step before 
him with a preface, and to say, '^ Nay, but hear me 
first,*' should liave Something wortlijr of attention to 
offer, or he will be justly deemed officious and imper ' 
tinent. The judicious reader has, probably upon other . 
occasions, been beforehand with me in this reflection : 
and I am not very willing it should now be applied to 
me, however I may seem to expose myself k> the dan 
ger of it. JBut the thought of Jiaring my own name 
perpetuated in connexion with the name in the title 
page, is so pleasing and flattering to the feelings of my 
heart, that I am content to risk somotliing for the 
gratification. 

Tliis Preface is not designed to commend the Poems 
to which it is prefixed. My testimony would be in- 
sufficient for those who are not qualified to judge pro- 
perly for tliemselves, and unnecessary to those who 
are. Besides, the reasons which render it improper 
and unseemly for a inan to colcbrate his own perform- 
ances, or those of his nearest relatives, will have some 
1 * 



L 



==1 



6 PREFACE 

mfluonce in su]ipre88iiig much ot* what he might other. 

wiae wkh to say in favour of a friend, when that friend 

is indeed an alter idem, and excites almost the some 

emotions of sensibility and affection as he fee for 

himself. 

It is very probable thatHliese Poems may come into 
the hands of some persons, in whom the sight of the 
autlior's name will awaken a recollection of incidents 
and scenes, wliich, through length of time, they had al- 
most forgotter.- They will be reminded of one, who 
was once the companioT> of their tlhosen hours, and 
who set out with them in early life in the paths which 
lead to literary honours, to influence and affluence, 
with equal prospects of success. But he was suddenly 
and powAfully withdrawn from those pursuits, and he 
left tliem without regret ; yet not till he had sufficient 
opportunity of counting the cost and of knowing the 
value of what he gave up. If happiness could have 
been found in classical attainments, in an elegant taste, 
in the exertions of wit, &ncy, and genius, and in the 
esteem and converse of such persons as in these re- 
spects were mo t congenial with himself, he would have 
been happy. But he was not— He wondered (as thou- 
sands in a similar situation still do) that he should con- 
tinue dissatisfied, with all the means apparently 
conducive to satisfacCfon within his reach. But in du« 
time the cause of his disappointment was discovered 
to htin ; he had lived without God in the world In a 
memorable hour the wisdom which is from above visit- 
ed his heart. Then he felt himself a wanderer, and 
then he found a guide. Upon this change of vhws, a 
change of plan and conduct followed of course. When 
he saw the bu^y and tlie gay world in its true light, he 



PREFACE. 7 

left it with as little reluctance as a priaoner, mlma cmB e J 
lo libertjr> learea kia donireon. Not that he became a 
Gjmck or an Aaeetiek— -A beart filied wUh leve to Cod 
will assuredlj breathe' beneTolence n» men. But the 
turn of his temper inclining him to rural life, he to- 
dulled it, and the Providence of God evidently prepar- 
ing his way and marking ont hie retreat, he retired 
into the country. By these steps the food hand of 
Grod, unknown to mo, was providing for me one of the 
prineipal blessings of my liib ; a friend and a counsellor^ 
in whose company for almost seven years, thov^h 
we were seldom Sbven successive waking hours septr- 
ratod, I always found new pleasure. A frienld who waa 
not only a comfort to myself, but a blessing to the al^ 
fectionate poor people, among whom I then Ifved. 

Sonie time after inclination had thus removed him 
f^om the hurry and bustle of life, he was still more se- 
cluded by a long indisposition, and my pleasure was 
succeeded by a proportioikable degree of anxiety and 
eoncem. But a hope that the God whom he served 
vvould support him under his affliction, ^uid at length 
vottchsale ium a hap|)y deliverance, never ianooi. m% 
The desiraU^ crisis, I trusty is now neariy apiH>oachfng. 
The dawn^ the prasage of returmng daj^ is dready a]r« 
nved. He is again enabled to resume his pen, and 
some of the first fruits of his r^overy are here pre* 
sented to the publick. In his ipincipal subjects, the 
'same acumen,, which distinguished him in the early 
period of life, is happily employed in illustrating and 
enforcing the truths of which he received such deep and 
unalterable impressions in his maturer ^ears. Hid sa- 
tire, if it may be called so, is benevolent, (like the ope« 
rations of the skilful and humane surgeon, who wounds 



S PREFACE. 

<mij U btalt) 4iet«ted by » imi xepud &r Uie honofu 
ofGody^ad m«UgB8At ^rief cxeUed by tbe profligacy 
of tbe age, 9ad t^ tender compaauon ior the loult ol 

ilii favourite topicks are least insisted ob id the 
piece entitled Table Talk ; which, therefore, with re- 
gard to the prevailing taste, and that those who are go- 
verned by it may not be discooraged at the very thresh- 
old &om proceeding fUrther, is placed first. In most 
of the large Poems which follow, his leading design is 
more expUeitly avowed and pttfsued. He aims to com- 
municate his own perceptions of the truth, beauty, and 
influence of the religion of the Bible — ^A religion which 
however discredited by the misconduct of many who 
have not renounced the Christian name, proves itself 
when rightly understood, and cordially embraced, to 
be the grand desideratum, which alone can relieve the 
mind of man from pain&l and unavoidable anxieties, 
mqure it wi^h stal^ peace and solid hope, and furnish 
those motives and prospects, which, in the present 
state of things, are absolutely neoessaiy to produce a 
conduct worthy of a rational cieature, distinguished by 
a vastnese of capacity which no assemblage of earthly 
good can satisfy, and by a principle and pre-intiination 
of immortality. 

At a time when hypothesis and conjecture in philo* 
sophy are so justly exploded, and little is considered as 
deserving the name of knowledge which will not 
stand the test of experiment, the very use of the term 
experiment^, in religious concernments, is by too 
nany unhappily rejected with disgust. But we well 
know, that they who affect to despise the inward feel- 
ings which' religious persona speak of, and to treat 



PREFACE 9 

Uiem/bi enthusiasm and folly, hare inward feelings of 
Iheir own, which, though they would, they cannot sup- 
/»ress. We have been too long in the secret oursohes, 
to Account the proud, the ambitious, or the voluptuous, 
happy. We must lose the remembrance of what we 
once were, before we <^an believe that a man is satis- 
fied with himself, merely because he endeavours to 
appear so. A smile upon the fiice is oflen but a mask ^ 
worn occasionally and in company, to prevent, if possi 
'Me, a suspicion of what at the same time is passing in 
the heart. We know that there are people who seldom 
smile when they are alone ; who, therefore, are glad to 
hide themselves in a throng from the violence of their 
^ own reflexions ; and who, while by their looks and 
language they wish to persuade us they are happy, 
would be glad to change their conditions with a dog. 
But in defiance of all their efforts, they continue to 
think, forebode, and tremble. This we know, for it 
has been our own state, and therefore we know how 
to commiserate it in others. From this state the Bible 
relieved us. When we were led to read it with atten- 
tion, we found ourselves described. We learned the 
causes of our inquietude — We were directed to a me- 
thod of relief— we tried, and we were not disappointed. 

DKUS NOBIS HMC OTIA FECIT. 

We are now certain, that the gospel of Christ is the 
power of God untb salvation to every one that belioveth 
It has reconciled us to God, and to ourselves j to our. 
duty, and our situation. It is the balm and cordial of 
the present life, and a sovereign antidote against the 
t fears of death. 

Sed hactcnus hoec. Some smaller pieces upon lest 



10 1*REKACK. 

important mbjecte close the ?olunie. ]^k>t one of them 
I believe was written with a view to publicatien, btU | 
was unwilling they should be omitted. 

JOHN NEWTON, 

ChABLES S<tUARE, HOXTON, 

Febniaiy 18, 1782. 




Si te forth mttt gravis urtt sareina charUt^ 
Mjictto Hor. lib. i. Zph\. 13. 



^. You told me, I remember, glory, baitt 
On selfish principles, is shame and gntlt ; 
The deeds that men admire as.half dtyinc, ' 
Stark naught, because corrupt in their desi^. 
Strange doctrine this ! that without scruple 1 
The laurel that the very lighUiIng spares ; 
Brings down the warrior's trophy to the dost, 
And eats into hiif bbody sword like mst. 

B. I grant, that men continuing what thoy aie, 
Fierce, avaricious, proud, there must be war ; 10 

And never meant tite rule should be applied 
To him that fights with justice on has side. 

Let laurels, drench*d in pure PamsMkin dews. 
Reward his mem'ry, dear to ev*ry mnse. 
Who, with a eourag« of unshakmi root, 15 

In honour's field advancing his firm fi>ot, 
Flints it upon the fine that Justice draws, 
And will prevail, or perish !n her cause. 
Tis to the virtues of such men, man owe* 
Hie portion in the good thai Heaven bestows. 20 

Aad when recording History displays 
Pttats of renown, though wrought in ancient dpyt, 
Tells of a ftw stout hearts, that fimght and died 
Where duty plao*d them — at thefar country's side*; 
The man, that is Wot mov'd with what he reads, 91 
That takes not fire at their heroicfc deeds. 
On worthy of the blessings of the brave. 
Is base m kind, and bom to be a sKv: 



32 JABLE TALK. 

'But let eternal infamy pursue 
The vrretch to naught but h;B ambition truO| 30 

Who, for the sake of filling with one blast 
The post horns of all Europe, lays her waste 
Think yourself station'd on a towVmg rock 
To see a people scattered like a flock, 
Some royal mastiff panting at their heels, 35^ 

With all the savage thirst a tiger feels : 
Then vi :w him sclf-proclaim*d in a gazette 
Chief monster that has plagu'd the nations yet 
The globe and sceptre in such hand# misplaced, 
Those ensigns of dominion, how disgraced ! 4Q 

The glass that bids man mark the fleeting hour, 
And Death's own sithe w^d better speak his pow'r , 
Then grace the bony phantcmi in their stead 
With the king's shonlderknot and gay cockade ; 
Clothe the twin brethren in each other's dress, 45 

The same their occupation and succesa 

jS. 'Tis your belief the world was made foreman ; 
Kings do but reason on the self-same plan : 
Maintaining yours, you cannot theirs condemn, 
Who think, or seem to think, man made for them. 50 

B. Seldom, alas [ the power of logick reigns, • 
With much sufficiency in royal brains ; 
Such reas'ning falls like an inverted cone, 
Wanting its proper base to stand upon. 
Man made for kings I tlH>se optieks are bnt dim^ 56 
That tell you sorHsay, rather, the^or him. 
That were indeed a king-ennobling thought, 
Could they, or would they, reason as they ought. / 
The diadem with mighty projects lin'd, « 

%o catch renown by ruining mankind, 60 ^ 

Is worth, with all its gold and glftt'ring storey 
Just what the toy will sell for, and no more. 
. Oh ! bright occasions of dispensing good, 
Ho^ seldom used, how little understood ! 
To pour in Virtue's lap her just reward ; 68 

Keep vice restrain'd behind a double guard ; 



TABLK TALK.. * 

To qaell the ftction that afironts the throne, 
By silent magnanimity alone ; 
To nurse with tender care the thriving arts ; 
Watch ev*ry beam Philosophy imparts ; 7Q 

To give Reiigion her unbridled scope, 
Nor judge by statute a believer's hope ; 
With close fid^ity and love unfbign'd, 
To keep the matrimonial bond unstained ; 
Covetous only of a virtuous praise ; 76 

His life a le:)son to the land he a ways ; 
To touch the sword with conscientioas awe. 
Nor draw it but when ditty bids him draw ; 
To sheath it in the peace-restoring dose 
With joy beyond what victory bestows ; 80 

Blest country where these kingly glories shine ! 
Blest England; if this happiness be thine ! 

^. Guard what you say ; the patriotiek tribe 
Will sneer and charge you with a br%e. — B. A bribe ? 
The worth of his three kingdoms I defy, 85 

To lure me to the baseness of a lie ; 
And, of all lies, (be that one poet^s boast,) 
The lie that flatters I abhor the most. 
Those arts be theirs, who hate his gentle reign, 
But he that loves him has no need to fain. 90 

jt. Your smooth eulogium to one crown addresa'd. 
Seems to imply a censure on the rest. 

B. Quevcdo, as he teils his sober talc, 
Ask'd, when in Hell, to see the roynl jail ; 
Approved their method in all other things ; 96 

But where, good sir, do you confine your kings? 
There, said h*s guide — the group is ftill in view. * 
Indeed ? — ^replied the Don — there are but few. 
His black interpreter the charge disdalnM — 
Few, fellow ? — ^there are all that ever reign'd. , XOO 
Wit, undistinguishing, is apt to strike 
The guilty and not guilty, both alike. 
I grant the sarcasm is too severe. 
And wc can readily refute it here ; 

V«ii,. I. 2 



M . TABLE TALK. 

Whne Alfred's name, the ftUrn of hit tge, 105 

And the Sixth Edward's grace th' hutocick page. 

jf. Kings then at last hare but the lot irf" idl : 
Jfy their own conduct they must stand or 60 

jB.Tme. While they live, the eonrtiy hnaert pays 
His qoit-rent ode, his peppercorn o£ praise ; IM 

And m-uiy a donee, whose fingers kch la write, 
Adds, as he can, his tributary mite : 
A subject's faoHs a 8id>jeet may proclaim, 
A monarch's errors are ibrludden game ! 
Thus free from eoisnre, overaw'd by lear, 115 

And prais'd for yirtues that they scorn to wear, 
The fleeting fimns of majesty engage 
Respect, while staUdng o'er liie's narrow stage ; 
Then leave their crimes for hii^yry to seen. 
And wmk with busy scorn. Was this the man ? 120 

I pity kings, whom Worship waiti* upon, 
Obsequioiis from the cradle to the throne ; 
Before whose infrmt eyes the flatt'rer bows, 
And binds a wreath about their baby browfi ; 
Whom £ducati<m stifi«A8 into state, . i26 

And Death awakens from that dream too late. 
Oh 1 if Serrility with sui^e knees. 
Whose tride it is to smile, to crouch, to please } 
If smooth Dissimulation, skiU'd to grace 
A devil's purpose with «n angel's iaoe *, 130 

If smiling peeresses, and simp'ring peers, 
Encompassing his throne a few short years ; 
If the gilt carriage and the pamper *d steed. 
That wants no driving, and disdains the lead ; 
If gutttls, mechanically form'd in ranks, 135 

Playing, at beat of drum, thfeir martial pranks. 
Shouldering and standing as if stuck to stone. 
While condescending majesty looks on } 
If monarchy consist ia such base things, 
Sighing, -I say again, f pity kings ! I4i 

To be suspected, thwarted, and 'withstood, 
Ken when he labours for his country's good, 



TABLE TALK. . i5 

To fee a band cvUVd patriot fox no caiwe, 
But that they catch at popular applause, 
Careless of all the anxiety he feels, 145 

Hook ^sappointment on the publick wheels ; 
With all their fiippant fluency of tongue, 
Most confident, when palpably, most wrong j 
If this be kingly, then farewell for me 
All kingship ; and may I be poor and free I 15C 

To be the Table Talk of clubs up stairs, 
To which th* unwash'd artificer repairs, 
T* indulge his genius after long fatigue. 
By diving into cabinet intrigue ; 
(For Y^hat kings deemed a toil, as well they may, 155 
To him is relaxation and mere play,) 
To win no piilse, when well-wrought plans prerail, 
But to be rudely censur'd when tliey iail ; 
To doubt the love his fav'rites may jHretend, 
And in reality to find no friend ; 16C 

If he indulge a cultivated taste, . 
His gairries with the works of art well grae*d, 
To hear it call'd extravagance and waste ; 
If these attendants, and if such as these, 
Must follow royalty, then welcome ease : .165 

H«>wever humble and confin'd the sphere, , 
Happy the state that has not those to fear. 
A. Thus men, whose thoughts cpntemplativt have 
dwelt 
On situations that they never folt. 
Start up sagacious, covered with the dust 170 

Of dreaming study and pedantick rust. 
And prate and preach about what others prove, 
As if the world and they were hand and glove. 
Leave kingly backs to cope with kingly cares ; 
They have their weight to carry, subjects theirs ; 175 
Poets, of all men, ever least regret 
Increasing taxes, and the natioif s debt. 
Could you contrive the payment, and rehearse 
The mighty plan, oracular in verse, 



i<5 TABLE TALK. 

No bard, howe'er majcstick, old or new, '80 

Slioiild claim my fix'd attentibn more than you. 

B. Not Brindley nor Bridgewater would essay 
To turn the course of Helicon that way ; 
Nor would the Nine consent tlie sacred tide 
Should purl amidst the traffick of Chcapside, 185 

Or tinkle in Change Alley, to amuse 
The leathern ears of stockjobbers and Jews. 

^. Vouchsafe, at least, to pitch the key of rhyme 
To themes more pertinent, if less sublime. " * 

When ministers and ministerial arts; 11)0 

Patriots, who love good plaCfes at their hearts ; 
When admirals extoll'd for standing still, 
Or doing nothing with a deal of skill ; ^ 
Gen'rals who will not conquer when they may, 
Firm friends to peace, to pleasure, and good pay ; 195 
When Frepdom, wounded almost to despair, 
Though Dipcontent alone can find out where ; 
When themes like these employ the poet's tongue, 
I hear as mute as if a syren sung. 
Or tell me, if you can, what pow'r maintaixis 200 

A Briton's scorn of arbitrary chains ? 
That were a theme might animate the dead, 
And movethe lips of poets cast in lead. 

,/?. The cause, tho' worth the search, may yet cludu 
Conjecture and remark, however shrewd. 2(/5 

They take perhaps a well-directed aim, 
Who seek it in his climate and his frame. 
Lib'ral in all things else, yet Nature here 
With stern severity deals out the year. 
Winter invades the spring, and oflen pours 210 

A chilling flood on summer's drooping flow'rs , 
Unwelcome vapours quench autumnal beams, 
Ijngenial blasts attending curl the streams ; 
The peasants nrge thei^ harvest, pty the fork 
With double toil, and shiver at their work ; 215 

Thus with a rigour, for his good design'd. 
She rears her .%v*rile man of all mankind. 



L 



Hii form robust ana of elastick tone, 

Pi4>portion!d well, halt muscle and half boiw* 

Stftplies with warm activity and force 890 

A mind well lodg*d, and manrailine of ootme, 

Hi0noe Liberty, 9wcet Liberty inapuresy 

And keeps aKve his fierce bat Boble fiiefi 

Patient of coiistitiitio&al control, 

He bears it with meek nuudmewof iool ; 8S9 

But, if Authority grow wantimy wo 

To him that treads upon Ms £ree-bom toe v 

One step beyond the boundVy of the laws 

Fires him at once in Freedom's glorious eaaae^ 

Thus proud prerogative, not much reter*dy 99(^ 

Is seldom felt, though sometimes seen and heaid | 

And in lus cage, like parrot fine and gay, 

Is kept to strut, look big, and talk away. 

Born in a climate softer fiu* than ours, 
Not formed like us, with such Hercokam poipir^y 835 
The Frenchman, easy, debonair, and brisk, 
Giro him his lass, his fiddle, and his fidudc, 
Is always happy, reign whoever may. 
And laughs the sense of misery far away. 
He drinks his simple beverage with a gust } M^ 

And, feasting on an onioh and a ernst^^ « 

We never feel the alacrity and joy 
With wliich he shouts and car^ ^«« /• Roil 
Fill'd with as much true merriment atld glee> 
As if lie heard his kmg soy---^ IBlave, be ftee */ MS 

Thus happiness depends, a» Naturd sbow% 
Less on exteriour things than mo0t siij^OM* 
Vigilant over all that ho has madd, 
Rind Providence attends with gracious i^ ; 
Bids equity throughout his work& prevaily 8Si 

And weiglis the nations in sn even scale ; 
He can encourage slav'ry to a smile, 
And nil with discontent a British isle. 

J] Freeman and slave, then, if tlie case be sueh, 
bland on a level ; and you prove too innch J 255 



W TABI^ TALK. 

If all men indiscriminately share 

His fostering power, and tutelary care, . - 

As wel! be yok'd by Despotism's liand, 

As dwell at large in Britain's chartered land. 

B. No. Freedom has a thousand charms to show, 2G€ 
That slaves, howe'er contented, never know. 
The mind attains beneath her happy reigrn 
The growth, that Nature meant she should attain^ 
The varied fields of science, ever rilw, 
Op'ning, and wider op'ning, on her view, 26i 

She ventures onward with a prosp'rous force, 
While no base fear impedes her in her course. 
Religion, richest favour of the skies. 
Stands most Tcveal'd before the freeman'^ eyes ; 
No shades of superstition blot the day, 27Q 

Liberty chases all that gloom away ; 
The soul emancipated, unoppress'd, 
Free to prove all things, and hold fast the beat. 
Learns much ; and to a thousand listening minda 
Communicates with joy the good she finds ; 275 

Courage in arms, and ever prompt to show 
His manly forehead to the fiercest foe ; 
Glorious in war, but for the sake of peace, 
His spirits rising as his toils inciease. 
Guards well what arts and industry have won, 29Q 
And Freedom claitus him fi>r her first-bom son. 
Slaves fight for what were better cast away— 
The chain that binds them, and a t3nrant's sway ; 
But they that fight fi>r freedom, undertake 
The noblest cause mankind can have at stake 265 

Religion, virtue, truth, whate'er we call 
A blessmg — ^freedom is the pledge of all. 
O Liberty ! the prisoners pleasing dream. 
The poet's muse, his passion, and his theme ; 
Genius is thin^, and thuu art Fancy's nurse ; 290 

Lost without thee th' ennobling pow'rs of verse ; 
Hcroick song from thy free touch acquires 
Its clearest tone, the rapture it inspires. 



TABLE7ALK. 19 

Place me *when Winter breathee Jus ke^Mil ai^ 
And I will sing, if L*iberty be there ; 296 

And I will sing at Libert's dear feet, 
In Afric's torrid cUmey or India's nerceat heat. 

A. Sing where yea please; in such a. cauae I grant 
An English poet's privilege to rant ; 

But is not Freedom — at least, k not ours, 300 

Too apt to plaj the wairton with her pow'rs, 
Grow freakish, and, o'erlea^Mng every mound. 
Spread anarchy and terrour all around ? 

B. Agreed. But would you sell or slay your horse 
For boundii^ and eurvetting in his course ? 306 
Or if^ when ridden with a easeless rein, 

He break awa/, and seek the distant plain ? 
No. His high mettle,-uuder good contr<^ 
Gives him Oljrmpick speed, and shoots him to the goal. 

Let Discipline employ her whelesoine arts ; 31C 

Let magistrates alert perform their parts. 
Not skulk or put on a prudential mask. 
As if their duty were a. desperate task ; 
Let active Laws apply the needful curb} 
To guard the Peaee,.that Riot would disturb ; S10 

And Liberty, preserved from wild excess, 
Shall raise no feuds for annies to sD^iprass. 
When Tumult lately burst his prison door, 
And set jfrfebeian thousa^s in » roar ; 
When he usurp'd Authority's just place, 390 

And dar'd to look his.mai^r in the lace : 
When the rude n^le's watchword was^-destroj, 
And blazitig London seem'd a second Troy ; 
Liberty blush'd, and hung her droc^ping head, 
Beheld their progress with the deepest dread ; 325 

Blush'd ^t eflEects like these she should produr.e. 
Worse than the deeds of galley-slaves broke loose 
She loses in sueh storms her very name. 
And fle««e Lieenttousness f^ould bear the blame. 

Incomparable gem ! thy worth untold ; 330 

Cheap, tho* blood-bought, and thrown away wheneold i 



20 tkBLE TALIt. 

l^jr w>^^ mHrii tiiMy ami no iUdo fHMid 

B^irmy thee, wUle pnfyBmng to defend ! 

Prize it, ye miniflefs ; ye monafebi, 9ptat9 ) 

Te patriots, ^uard it iritk a miset^s care. 3$S 

Jf. Paltiota, Idas ! tiie few that haTe heen fbmtAf 
Where most they flowidi, upon ESngliah grmau&f 
The country's need hai^e seantily snppKed, 
And the last left 1^ seene, whMi Chatham ^ed. 

B. Not 0O«-4he yirtne stitt adorns onr agv^ • 340 
Though the chief aeior died upon tiie stage. 
In hira Demosthenes was heard again ; 
Liberty taught hmi her Athenian strtdn : 
She clothed him ^Hth authority and awe, 
Spoke from his lips, and in his looks gate law. 345 
I^ speech, his Ibrm, his action, full of grace. 
And all his eountry beaming in his hce, 
He stood, as some inimitable hand 
Would strive to make a Paul or TvSfy stand. 
No sycoi^iant or dat«, that day'd opposis 230 

Her sacred cause, but tmmMed when he rose ; 
And ev'ry venal sd<^er fat the y^^ 
t*elt himself emshVI at the first wont he t^x^e. 

Such men are rais'd to station and command 
When Providenee means mercy to a land. 8S5 

He speaks, and they appear : to htm they owe ■ 
Skill to direct, and strength to stsrike the h^mt; 
To manage with addi^ss, to seiie with pim'r 
The crisis of a dark docisive boor. 
So Gideon eam'd a victory not his own ; 8W 

Subserviency his praise, and that alone. 

Poor England ! tiRW art a devoted de^r, 
Beset with every ill but that of fear. 
Thco nations hunt ; all mark thee £br a prey ; 
They swarm around thee, and thoiii stand*st at bi^ 365 
Undaunted still, thmigh wearied and perplexed. 
Once Qiafiiam sav'd thee ; but who saves thee v*(Zi ( 
Alas ! the tide of pleasure sweeps along 
All, that should ber the boairt of Britu^ song. 



TABLE TALK. *1 

Tis not the wreaUi, that onee sdem*d thy IwMr, ^ 
The prize of happier times, jmiX awm thee wm 
Our ancestry, a gattuit, Christian raea, 
Patterns of ev'ry virtue, ev'ry gvaoe, 
Confcs'd a God ; they kneel'd More they fooflit, 
And praised him in the yietories he wreofchi. 31i 

Now from the ^st of ancient days bring fiirth 
1 heir sofaner zeal, integrity, and worth , 
Courage ungrac'd by these, affronts the eklee. 
Is but the fire without the saer^oe. 
Tne stream, thatfecdsthe well-spring of the heaity 380 
Not more invigorates li&'e noblest part, 
Than Virtue quickens with a warmth divine 
Tho pow'rs that Sin has brought-to a decline. 

^. Th* inestimaUe Estimate, of Brown 
Rose like a paper kite, and chBrm*d the towa ; 385 
But measures, plann'd and exeooted well, 
Shifted the wmd that raised it, and it feU. 
He trod tiie ^lyy self-same ground yea treed, 
And Victory refuted all he said. 

JB, And yet his judgment was not 6ram*d amiss ; 900 
Its errour, if it err'd, was merely this — - 
He thought the dying hour already como, 
And a complete recovery struck him dumb. 

But that effeminacy, folly, lust, 
Enervate and enfeeble, and needs must ; 396 

And tiiat a nation shamefully debes'd 
Will be dospis'd and trampled on at last, 
Uidess sweet Penitence herpew*i8 lonew ; 
Is truth, if history itself be true. 
There is a time and Justice marks the date, 400 

For long-forbearing clemency 4o wait ; 
That hour elapsed th* incurable rev<^t 
Is punished, and down comes the thunderbolt. 
If mercy then put by the threatening Mow, 
Must slie perform the same kind o^ce now f , 40S 
May she ? and if offcmded Heav'n be sttU 
Accessible, and pray'r prevail, she will 




=», 



98 TABLJB TALE. 

Tb not, h^wwetfuaokiiitem and noiM, 

The teoofert of tuiBuituary joyt» 

Nor is it yet de^pondeneo wad dmaaj 416 

Will win her visits, or engage her stoy ; 

Pray T only, and the plbitealial tear, 

Can call hi*r smiling dews, and fix her her# 

But when a coontiy, (one that I oooild nuemj^ . 
In prostitution sinks the sense oC shamfr ; 415 

When infiunons Veaaittyy fptawn bold. 
Writes on his bosom, Te he Ut or sold / 
VHien Peijoiy, that HeftT*n-dtfymg rio*, 
Sells oaths by tale, and at the lowest pricey 
Stamps God's own name i^Mn a he just naidei 490 
To turn a penny in the way of trade ; 
When AT*rice stanres, (and never hides his faee,) 
Two or three millions of tho hnmon raee, 
And not a tongue inqmrea, how, where, or whenr 
Though conicience will havo twmges now and then; 
When profanation of the saored cause, ^' 4U5 

In all its parts, times, ministry, and law% 
Bespeaks a kad, once Christian, fall'n and lost, 
In idl, but wars against that title most ; 
What follows next let cities of great name, 430 

And regions \tmg since deeolate, proclaim. 
Nineveh, Babylon, and ancient Bome, 
Speak to. the present times, and times to eornai ; 
They cry aloud in ev'ry eareleai ear, 
Stop while you may ; suspend your mad career; 495 
O learn from our example and our fate, 
Iieam wisdom and repentaneo ore too late. 

Not only Vice disposes and prepares 
The miud, that slumbers sweetly in her snares, 
To stoop to Tyranny'fei usurp'd command, 440 

And bend her polish'd neck beneath his hand, 
(A dire effect, by one of Nature's laws, 
Urchangeabiy connected with its cause ;) 
But Providence himself will intervene, 
To throw his dark displeasure o'er the scene 445 



All are his instrtfitteHte ; etoh farm of irtr, 

What bums at home, or threatens £rom a&r : 

Nature in. arms, her elements i^ strife, 

The storms that overset Uie jojs of life, 

Are but Ids rods to scourge a guJy land, 400 

And waste it at the bidding of his hand. 

He gives the wofd, and Mu^y soon roars 

In all her gates, and riiakes her distant shores ; 

Tlie standards of all nations are tinfhrl'd ; 

She has one foe, and that one foe the worid. 455 

And, if he doom that people with a firown, 

And mark them with a seal of wrath pressM /town. 

Obduracy takes place ^etJUfraa and tough, 

The reprobated race grows judgment proof; 

Earth shakes beneath them, and Hekv^n roars above; 4G0 

But nothing scares-them ftom the course they love. 

To the lascivious pipe and wanton sang, 

That charm down fear, they froliek it along. 

With mad rapidity and unconcern, 

Down to the gulf, from wfai^ is no return. 466 

They trust in navies, and their navies fail~- 

Crod*s curse can cast away ten thousand sail! 

They trust in armies, and their courage dies ; 

In wisdom, wealth, in fortune, and in li^s , 

But all they trust in, withers, as it must, 470 

When Hid commands, in whom they place no inot 

Vengeance at last pours down upon their coast 

A long despised, but now victorious, host ; ■ 

Tyranny sends the chain, that must abridge 

The noble sweep of idl their privilege ; 4Tfi 

Gives liberty the last, the mortal shock : 

Slips *he slaveys collar on, and snaps the lock. 

A. Such lofty strains embellish what you teach, 
Mean yf>« to prophesy, or but to preach ? 

B. I know the mind that feols indeed the fire 4911 
The muse imparts, and can command th*e lyre, 

Acts with a force and kindles with a zeal, 
Whato'ei the tiiemc, that others never feeL 



24 TABLF TALK. 

I£ hum in woes her soft attention elainiy 

A tender sympatky pervades the frame ; 435 

She pours a sensibility divine . 

Alon^ the nerves of every feeling lino. 

But if a aeed not tamely to be borne 

Fire indignation and a sense of scorn, 

The strings are swept with such a pow*r so loud, 490 

The storm of musick shakes th' astonished crowd. 

So, when remote futurity is brought 

Before the keen inquiry of her thought, 

A terrible sagacity informs 

The poetVheart ; he looks to distant storms > 4^ 

He hears the thunder ere the tempest low'rs ■, 

And, arm*d with strength surpassing human powers, 

Seizes events as yet unknown to man, 

And darts his soul into the dawning plan. 

Hence in a Roman mouth, the grac# .ol name 500 

Of prophet and of poet was the same ', 

Hence, British poets, too, the priesthood shared. 

And every hallow'd druid was a bard. 

But no prophetick fires to me belong ; 

I play with syllables, and sport in song. 505 

^. At Westminster, where little poets strive 
To set a distich upon six and five, 
Where Discipline helps th' op*ning buds of sensey 
And makes his pupils proud with silver pence, 
I was a poet too : but modern taste 510 

Is so refhi'd, and delicate, and chaste. 
That verse, whatever fire the fancy warms. 
Without a creamy smoothness has no charms. 
Thus, all success depending on an ear. 
And thinking I might purchase it too dear, 515 

If sentiment were sacrificed to sound, 
And truth cut short to make a period rounds 
I judg'd a man of sense could scarce do worse, 
Than caper in the morris-dance of verse. 

B, Thus reputation is a spur to wit, 520 

And some vriis flag through fear of losing it 



TABLE TALK » 

Giv6 me liia fine that ploughs its stately course 
Like a proud swan, conquering the stream bj force ; 
That, like some cottage beauty, strikes the heart, 
Quite unindebted to the tricks of art. SSS 

When Labour and when Dulness club in hand, 
Like the two figures at St. Dunstan's, stand. 
Beating alternately in measur*d time, 
The clock-work tintinabulura of rhyme, 
Exact and regular the sounds will be ; 530 

But such mere quarter-strokes are not for me. 

From him who rears a poem lank and long. 
To him Vho strains his all into a song ; 
Perhaps some bonny Caledonian air, 
All birks and braes, though he was never there ; 535 
Or, having whelp'd a prologue with great pains. 
Feels himself spent, and fumbles for his braioB ; 
A prologue interdash'd with many a stroke — 
An art contriv'd to advertise a joke. 
So that the jest is clearly to be seen, 540 

Not In the words — ^but in the gap between : 
Manner is all in all, whato'er is writ 
To substitute for genius, sense, and wit. 

To dally much with subjects mean and low 
Proves that the mind is weak, or makes it so. 545 

Neglected talents rust into decay, 
And ov'ry effort ends in puslipin play. 
The man that means success should soar above 
A soldier's feather, or a lady's glove ; 
Else, summoning the muse to such a theme, 550 

The fruit of all her labour is whipp'd cream. 
As if an eagle flew aloft, and then — 
Stoop'd from its highest pitch to pounce a wren 
As if the poet, purposing to wed, 
Should carve himself a wife in gingerbread. 555 

Ages claps'd ere Homer's lamp appear'd. 
And ages ere the Mantiian swan was heard, 
To carry Nature's lengths unknown before, 
To give a Milton birth, ask'd ages more. 

Vol. I. 3 



$t TABLE TALK. 

Thus Geniufl rose and set at order'd times, 6G0 

And shot a day-spring into distant ciimesy 

Ennobling ev'ry region that he chose y 

lis sunk in Greece, in Italy he rose ; 

And, tedbtts y^irs of Uothick darkness passM, 

Emerg'd all splendour in oinr isle at last. 56& 

Thus lorely halcyons dive into the main, 

Then show far off their shining pluines again^ 

A, Is genius only found in epick lays ? 
Prove this, and forfeit all pretence to praise. 
Make their heroiok pow'rs your own at once, 570 

Or candidly confess yourself a dunce. • 

B» l^iue were the chief: each interval of night 
Was grac'd with many an undulating light. 
In less illustrious bards his beauty shone 
A meteor or a star ; in these the sun. 575 

The nightingale may claim the topmost bough, 
While the poor grasshopper must chirp below. 
Iiike him unnotie'd I, acd such as T, 
Spread little wings, and rather sidp than fly ', 
Perch*d on the meagre produce of the land, 580 

An ell or two of prospect we command ;, 
Bot never peep beyond the thorny Itound, 
Or oaken fer.ce that hems the paddock round. 

In Zden, ere yet innocence of heart 
Had faded, poetry was not an art : 586 

Language above all teaching, or, if taught, 
Only by gratitude and glowing thought,. 
Elegant as simplicity, and warm 
As ecstasy, unmanacled by form. 
Not prompted, as in our degenerate days, 5$X) 

By low ambition and the thirst of praise,- 
Was natural as is the flowing stream. 
And yet magnificent— A God the theme ! 
That theme on Earth exhausted, though above 
'Tis found as evi^rlasting as his love, 695. 

Man lavished all his thoughts on human things — 
The feais of heroes, and the wrath of ^ij^ ; 



fABLE TALK. W 

But still, while Tirtne khidlMl Ms tfeligM, 
Tlie aong waft moml, sad so fiff Wa» tigiiC. 
Twas thus iM Liljtttry s«ABi»*d 11^ mhid 6d0 

To joys less HtHMsmxt) m 1<^ M^*d ; 
Then OMuu ^fatne'd a baeekatnl ; he crew**d 
The brimmhi^ ^reMet, sekVI the thytm, bovni 
His orows wi^ hy, rllsk'd mte ^10 ^td 
Ot wild imagination^ aiid thero ttmVdf 606 

The Tictim of his own iaacilrie«s fiiM) 
And, dizzy with deli^, ptft&xk'd the siAMd wtot* 
Anacreon, Horace^ ^y'd kk GtMee tand Rottte *'\. 
This bedlam part, and el|ie» neater home. "^ 

When Cromwell fou^t ftr pew^r, and wttBe h» f^pk'i 
The proud protectcnr ef the power l» g^% ttt 

Religion harsh, intolerant, aostere, 
Parent of manners like herself severe, 
Drew a rough copy of the Christian fheey 
Without the smile, the sweetness, or the fraee } 6IS 
The dark and sullen humour of the time 
Judged ev'ry efihrt of the muse a crime ; 
Verse, in the finest mould of &iicy cast, 
Was lumber in an age so void of taste : 
But when the seeond Charles assnm'd the suniyv ^^ 
And arts reriT'd beneatii a softer day, 
Then like a bow long {otc*d mto a eurve, 
The mind, releas'd from too ceostraiai'd a Aevfey 
Flew to its first position with tt eprmg, 
That made the yaulted roofs of Pleasing ring. CBS 
His court, the dissolute-and hateful sehool 
Of Wantonness, where vice was taii^ht by nd% 
Swarm'd with a seribolihg herd, as deep inhtid 
With brutal lust as erer Circe made. 
Prom these a long succession, in a rage €90 

Of rank obscemty debftuch'd their age : 
Nor ceas*d till ever anxious to redress 
1 he abuses of her saered charge, the pr«#s, 
TIaO muse instructed a well-nurtur'd train 
Of iblor votaries to deanse the stain, ^9S, 



ip TABt£ TALK. 

And claim th» palm for purity of sonify 
That Lewdness had utorp'd and worn so loof • 
Then decent Pleasantry, and sterling Sense, 
That neither gave nor wonld endwe offence, 
Whipp'd out of sight, with satire just and kaea, 040 
The puppy pack, that had defil'd the scene. 
In front of these came Addison. In him 
Humour in hc^ay and sightly trim. 
Sublimity and attick taste combined, 
To polish, fisnish, and delight the mind. 645 

Then Pope, as harmony itself exact, 
In Terse well disciplin'd, complete, compact, 
Gave Tirtue and morality a grace. 
That quite eclipsing Pleasure's painted face, 
Levied a tax of wonder and applause, €60 

£*en on the fools that trampled on their laws. 
But he, (his musical finesse was such, 
So nice his ear, so delicate his touch,) 
Made poetry a mere mechanick art ; 
And ev*ry warbler has his tune by heart. 655 

Nature imparting her satirick gift. 
Her serious mirth, to Arbuthnot and Swift, 
WHh dnA sobriety Uiey rais'd a smile 
At Folly's cost, themselves unmov'd the while. 
That consteHation set, the world in vain 660 

Must hope to look upon their Hke again. 

A. Are we then left — B, Not wholly in the dark ; 
Wit now and then, struck smartly, idio#s a spark, 
Sufficient to redeem the modem race 
From total night and absolute disgrace. 666 

While servile trick and imitative knack 
Confine the million in the beaten track. 
Perhaps some courser, who disdains the road, 
Snuffs up the wind, and flings himself abroad. 

Contemporaries all surpassed, see one ; 670 

Short his career, indeed, but ably run ; 
Churchill, himBelf unconscious of his pow'rs, 
la penury consuni'd his id'o hours ; 



TABLE TAUL • 

And like a 9cattor*d Med at naiAdM floWB, 
Was left to apritig by tigour of bn own. 098 

Lifted at length, by dignity of thoogiit 
And dint of genhu to an t^nent lot, 
He laid hie head in Lnzory's soft lap, 
And took, too often, there hn eaa^ tta|^. 
If brighter bcama than all he threw not §Mkf §B0 

Twas negligence in him, not want of worth. 
Surly, and slovenly, and bold, and ooarie, 
Too proud for art, and trusting in mere Ibree^ 
Spendthrift alike of money and of wit. 
Always at speed, and never drawing bit, €&$ 

He struck the lyre in such a careless mood, 
And so disdained the rules he understood. 
The laurel seemed to wiut on his command. 
Ho snatch'd it rudely from the muses' hand. 
Nature, exerting an unwearied paw%' #09 

Forms, opens, and gires scent to ev'ry fl ewe # f 
Spreads the fresh verdnre (^the field, and leada 
l4ie dancing Naiads through ^e de^t^ meadi. 
She fills profbse ten thousand little throats 
With musick, modulating aU their notes; €96 

And charms tli« woodland scenes, and w9ds VBAxmrnnf 
With artless airs and concerts of her own ; 
But seldom, (as if fisarfUi of expense,) 
Vouchsafes to man a poet's just preteno^— 
Fervency, freedom, fluency of thoc^t, 900 

Harmony, strength, words exqufiHtely sought ; 
Fancy, that from the bow that spans the sky, 
Brings colours dipped in Heav^n^ that .never di» r 
A soul exalt^ above earth, a mind 
Skiird in the characters that form mankind *, 705 

And as the sun in rising beauty dress'd, 
Looks to the westward from the dappled east, 
And marks whatever clouds vmy interpose, 
Ere yet his race begins, its glorious close ; 
And eye like his to catch the distant goal ; 'lO 

Or, ere the wheels of verse begin to roll, 
3« 



£»M 



90 TAiiL.E TAUL 

Like hit to ab/td illvBiiiMtiii^ rays 

On ey'ry icene and tubject it survejn : 

Thus gno*df the man aaeerts a poet> name, 

And the world cheerfully admits the claim. 715 

Pity Religion has so seldom found 
A skilful fpiide into poetick ground ! 
The flow'rs would spring where'er she deign'd to stray 
And ev*ry muse attend her in her way. 
Virtue indeed, meets many a rhyming friend, 720 

And many a compliment politely penn*d ', 
But, unattir*d in that becoming vest 
IMigion weaves for her» and half undressed, 
Btands in the desert, shivring and forlom, 
A wintry figure, like a withered thorn. 725 

The shelves are full, all other themes are q;>ed ] 
Hackneyed and worn to the last flimsy thread, 
Satire has long since done his best ; and curst 
And loathsome ribaldry has done his worst ; 
Fancy has i^rted all her pow'rs away 730 

In tales, in trifles, and in children's play ; 
And 'tis the sad complaint, and almost true, 
Whate'er we write, we bring forth nothing new. 
Twere new indeed to see a bard all &r% 
Touch'd with a coal from Heav'n, assume the lyre, Ti\S 
And tell the world, still kindling as he sung, 
With more than mortal musick on his tongue, 
Th|it He, wh5 died below, and reigns above, 
Inspires the song, and that his name is Love. 

For, after all, if merely to beguile, 740 

By flowing numbers, and a flow'ry style, 
The tedium that the lazy rich endure. 
Which now and then sweet poetry may cure , 
Or, if to see the name of idle self, 
Stamp'd on tbe well-bound quarto, grace the shelf, 745 
To float a bubble on the ^rsath of Fame, 
Prompt his endeavour and engage his aim, 
Dobas'd to servile purposes or pride. 
How ar • the pow'rs of genius misapplied ! 



TABLE TALK. «• 

The giA whose office ia the Giyer'e pniie, ?60 

To tntse him m his word, his works, his wajf t 
Then spread the rich discov'iy, and invito 
Mankind to share in the dirine delight, 
Distorted from its use and just design, 
To make the pitiful possessor shine, 78& 

To purchase at the ibol-fretpented fair 
Of Vaxiitj, a wreath for self to wear, 
Is profanation of the basest kind — 
Proof of a trifling and a worthless mind. 759 

^. Hail, Stemh^ then ; and, Hopkins^ hail ! — B. 
If flatt*ry, lollj, lost, employ the pen ; [Amen. 

If acrimony, slander, and abuse. 
Give ita charge to blacken and traduce ; 
Though Butler's wit. Pope's numbers, Prior*s ease, 
With all that fancy can invent to please, 7G$ 

Adorn the polish'd periods as they £dl. 
One madrigal of theirs is worth them alL 

%4. *Twould thin the ranks of the poetick tribe, 
To dash the pen throng all that you proscribe. 

B. No matter — ^we could shift when they were not ; 
And shoald, no dcubt, if they were ill Ibrgot. 771 



THK 

PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 



Si quid loquar aucUendom^^fiar. ZiA. it. Qd. S. 

SING, muse, (if such a theme, so dark, so longf 
May find a muse to grace it with a song,) 
By what unseen and unsuspected arts, 
l*he serpent Errour twines round human hearts y. 
Toll where she lurks, beneath what flow'ry shadei^ 5 
That not agUmpse of genuine light pervades, 
The pois'nous, black, insinuating worm 
Successfully conceals her loailisome form. 
Take, if ye can, ye careless and supine, 
Counsel and caution from a voice like mine ! 10 . 

Truths, that the theorist could never reach, 
And observation taught me, I would teach. 

Not all, whose eloquence the fancy fills, 
Musical as the chime of tinkling rills. 
Weak to perform, though mighty to pretend, 15 

Can trace her mazy windings to their end ; 
Discern the fraud beneath tlie specious lure, 
Prevent the danger, or prescribe the cure. 
The clear harangue, and cold as it is clear, 
Falls soporifick on the listless ear ; 20 

Like quicksilver, the rhet'rick they display 
Shines as it runs, but grasp'd at slips away. 

Placed for his trial on this bustling stage. 
From thoughtless youth to ruminating age, 
Free in his will to choose or to refuse, 25 

Man may improve the crisis or abuse ; 



^ 



THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR 83 

£l8e on the fatalist's unrighteous plan, 
Say ta what bar amenable were man ? 
With nought in charge he cooM betray no trust ; 
Andy if he fell, would fall because he must : 90 

If Love reward him, or if Vengeance strike, 
His recompense is both unjust alike. 
Divine auitko^t|r witinn his breaat 
Brings ev'ry thought, word, action, to the test : 
Warns him or prompts, approves him or restrains, 35 
As Reason, or as Passion takes the reins. 
Heav'n from above, and Ccmscience from within, 
Cries in his startled ear — ^Abstain from sin ! 
The world around solicits his desire. 
And kindles in his soul a treacherous fire ; 40 

While, all his purposes and steps to guard, 
Peace follows Virtue as its sure reward ; 
And Pleasure brings as surely in her train 
Remorse, and Sorrow, and vindictive Pain< . 

Man, thus endu'd with an elective voice, 45 

Must be su]^lied with objects of his choice ; 
Where'er he turns, enjoyment and delight. 
Or present, or in prospect, meet his sight ; 
Those open on the spot their honey'd store : 
These call him loudly to pursuit of more. 60 

His unexhausted mine tlie sordid vice 
Avarice ^ows, and virtue is the price. 
Here various motives his ambition raise — 
Pow'r, pomp, and splendour, and the thirst of praise. 
There Beauty woos him with expanded arms ; 55 

E'en Bacchanalian madness has its charms. 

Nor these alone whose pleasures, less refin'd, 
Might well alarm the most unguarded mind, 
Seek to supplant his inexpericnc'd youth. 
Or lead him devious from the path of truth ; / 60 

Hourly allurements on his passions press, 
9alb in themselves, but dang'rous in th' excess. 

Hark I how it floats upon the dewy air ' 
O, wliata djring, dying close was there ! 



S4 THE PE0GRE9S OF E&ROUR. 

Tia harmony from joa, l e qn e ater M how^t ^ 

Sweet harmcmj, that MOtiMs tiM nudaigiit hotff t 

Long ere the charioteer of day had rua 

His morning eoorse, th' enohantoieBft waft faeg«a 

And he shall gild yon mooataiik^ height i 

Ere yet the pleasing toil becomes a pain. 

Is Uiis the rugged paUi, the steep aaeeot, 

"Fhat Virtue points to ? Can a life thus i 

]joad to the Uise she promises the wiee. 

Detach the soul fhem earth, and speed her to tiM sklfl^* 

Te devotees to your ador'd employ, 99 

Entliusiasts, dr«uk with an ttnreal joy, 

Jjove makes the mvsi^ of the blest aboffVy . 

Heav*n*s harmony is muYersal lov^e ; 

And earthly souads, tiia* sweet and well comfattt^d, 

And lenient as soft opiates to the mind, 80 

Leave Vice and Folly misubdn'd behind. 

Gray dawn appears ; the sportsman and hts traa 
Speckle the bosom of the distant plain ; 
'Tis he, the Nimrod of the neighb'riag lairs ; 
Save that his scent is less acute than iheirsy 81 

For persevering chase, and headUmg leaps, 
True beagle as the stanchest hound he keeps. 
Charg'd witli the ^ly of his life's mad scene, 
He takes offence, and wonders what you mean 
The joy the danger and the toil overpays—* 90 

'Tis exercise, and health, and length ofdayA. 
Again impetuous to the field he flies , 
I^aps ev'ry fence, but one, there falls and dies ; 
Like a slain deer, the tumbrel brings him homey . 
Unraiss'd but by his dogs and by his groom. OS 

To clergy, while your orbit is your place. 
I/tghts of the world, and stars of human race ; 
Bui if eccontrickye forsake your sphere, 
Prodigies ominous, and view'd with fear ; 
The comet's baneliil influence is a dream ; 100^ 

Tours real and pernicious in th' extreme. 
What then ! — are iqf^tites and hists laid down 
With the same ease that man puts on his gown ? 



TOB fWOBREm OF EftEOim. U 

Win Av*rico and CoDgqp'wenet five plMO, 
Charnfd by tfa* Mnnito Yoqg lUv^iwoei ^ T«iff 
Grace ? IttI 

No. Bui hi« rnvB eng^g i—n t biiids him iMil ; 
Or^if it doe» not, hamds himiaiha kst. 
What atheists call him— « dmkgmsig knave, 
A mere churoh-fiifglert hjfiocrite^ and slave. 
Oh, laugh, or moom with me the rotfel jest, iliO 
A cassock'd hontsmam, and a fiddHaf pneat * 
He:ii:om Italian soa^isters takes his eoe : 
Set Paul to rausick, he ahall quote htm toeu 
He takes the fieki, the mmitor of the peck 
Cries— Wefl dona, wiiit! aadelapafaMQaontbakaflk. 115 
Is tlus the path of sanoaty ? la thM 
To stand a wmy^iamA m the read tebyoa ? 
Himself a wanderer firom tibe mawow «i^, 
His sillj sheep what wendet if they stray? 
Go, oast your orders at your fiiahf^'s feet, JS^ 
Send your diahonoor'd gewn to Momaoyth-eteeel 1 
The sacred function in yoov handto is mad a 
Sad sacrilege ! no l^moUon, bat a trade ! -^ 

Occiduus ie a pastor of renown v 
"hen he has pr&y'd and preaeh'd the sabhath dawn, 

nth wire and catgut he concludes thfe day, 129 

Quavering' ^jd semiqoaT'ring care away. 
The full concerto swells upon your ear ; - 
All elbows shake. Look in, and yoa wooki ewear 
The Babykinian tyrant with a nod, 190 

Had summoned tiaem to serve hb golden god. 
So well that thought th* employment sa^ma to suit, 
Psalt'ry and sackbut, dulcimer, and flute. 
O fie ! 'tis evangelicid and puse : 
Observe eaehfiice, how sober and dBmw* 135 

Ecstasy sets her stamp on «»V6ry mien ; 
Chins fall'n and not an eyeball to be seen. 
Still I insist, though musick heretoflufe 
Has charmed me much, (not e*n Occiduu* more,) 
l^vc, joy, and peace, make harmot^ more meet 110 



Whe 

with 



36 THE PftOORESS OF ERROmt 

For Sabbath ev*timg8, and perhaps as Bwe«t. 

Will not the sickliest sheep of ev'ry flock 
Resort to this example as a rock ; 
There stand, and justify the fottl abuse 
Of sabbath hoots with plausible ezonse ? 145 

If apostolick gravity be free 
To play the fool on Sundays, why notiiw t 
If hi the tinkling harpsichord regards 
As inoffensive, what of!ence in cards ? 
Strike up the fiddles, let us all be gay, IST 

Laymen have leave to dance, tf parsons pky. 

Ob Italy ! — ^Thy sabbaths will be soon 
Our sabbaths, clos'd with mumm*ry and buflbon. 
Preaching and pranks will share the motley scene, 
Ours parcelled out, as thine have ever been, 155 

God's worship and the mountebank between. 
What says the prophet ? Let that day be blest 
With holiness and consecrated rest. 
Pastime and bimness both it shouM ezdude, 
And bar the door the moment they intrude ; 1€0 

Nobly distinguish^ above all the six 
By deeds, in which the world must never mix. 
Hear him again. He calls it a delist, ^ 

A day of luxury observ'd aright, 
When the glad soul is made Heav'ns w^corae guest, 
Sits banqueting, and Crod provides the feast. 1G6 

But triflers are engag'd and cannot come ; 
Their answer to the call is-^^ATot at home. 

O the dear pleasures of the velvet plain. 
The painted tal^ets, dealt and dealt again ! 170 

Cards with what rapture, and the polish'd die. 
The yawning chasm of indolence supply ! 
Then to the dance, and make the sober moon 
Witness of joys that ^un the sight of mKm- 
Blame, cynick, if you can, quadrille or ball, 175 

The snug close party, or the splendid hall. 
Where night, down-stooping from her ebon throm 
Views oonrtellationa bri^iter than her own. 






'mE P&OGB£fi» OP CSBOUl. W 
'Tis iimocent, andliaiaueBs, and r«fiB!d, 
The balm of care, Elysium of the mind. 180 

Innocent I Oh, if veneiaUe Time 
Slain at the foot of pleaaore be no crine, 
Then, with his sihrer beoxd and m«gick mnd, 
Let c3omus rise archbishop of the land ; 
I^et him your mbf iekaod yMir ^uuta ptMecibe, 1 06 
Grand metropolitan of all the tribe. 

Of manners roHgh^ and coaive aAhletick CMty 
The rank debaucli suits Clodk>*a GkiJay tasto. 
IlusiJluS; ezqaisite]y>£)i'm'd bymle, 
N ot of the moral, but ibe daociag sohool, IM 

AVonders at Ck>dio's lbUtea» in ft tone 
t ' ■; As tragical, as others at his own. 
■'l He cannot drii^ five boUles^bilk the i^ore, 
- Then kill a constable, and ^ink 1^^ mof e ^ 
' But he can draw a pattern, n«ake.a Uut, 199 

_ ■ And has the ladies' etiquette % imiutU 
; t €ro, fool ; aad^ axasiin arai witii Clodio, plead 
J Tour cause befinre a bar-yi»a liitle dvead : 
J But know, the law, thsX bids the drunkard die, 
I Is far too just to pass the trifler by. 200 

J Both baby featux^d^ and of infant siae, 
4*jL; Viewed from a distance, oad with he)9dlQS8 Q^#a 
» *; Folly apd JimQcence are 0o ajike, 

* The diffrenqe, though epoential, fail* to f trike ■, 

Tet Folly ever ha^ a Tacantstace, 9UI 

A simp'rmg coimt'oaace^ and a tridixig ftir : 
But Innocence, sedate, serene, er^ct, 
, Delights us^by engaging our respect. 
Man, Nature's guest by inyitaUon sweet, 
Receives from her both appetite and treat; ,2 it) 

But if he play the glutton, and exceed. 
His benefactress blushes at the deed ; 
¥or Nature, nice, as lib'ral to (^^^jspeose, 
Made nothing but ft brute the ^ve ofspnse. 
S Daniel ate puke by choipo* ^tample raxe ' 21& 

t Heaven bless'd the youth, and made h^u ix^ and fcur. 

I Vol. I. 4 



16 TH£ PROGRESS OF ERROlUt 

Gtorgonius sits, abdomiiious and wan. 

Like a fat squab upon a Chinese fan : 

He snu€8 fiu: off the anticipated joy ; 

Turtle and ven'son all his thoughts employ , 2241 

Prepares lor meals as joekios take a sweat, 

Oh. nauseous ! — an emetick for a whet ! 

Will ProTidence overlook the wasted good ? 

Temperance were no virtue if he could. 

That pleasures, therefore, or what such we call, 225 
Are hurtful, is a truth confess'd by* all. 
And some, that seem'<d to threaten virtue less, 
Still hurtful in th' abuse, or by the ezcei». 

Is ^;nan then only for his torment plac'd 
The centre of delights he may not taste ? 230 

Like fabled Tantalus condemn'd to hear 
The precious stream still purling in his ear, 
Lip deep in what he longs for, and yet curs'd 
With prohibition, and perpetual thirst ? 
No, wrangler, — destitute of shame and sense, 236 

The precept, that enjoins him abstinence. 
Forbids him none but the licentious joy. 
Whose fruit, though fair, tempts only to destroy. 
Remorse, the fatal e^g by pleasure lud 
In every bosom where her nest is made, 240 

Hatch'd by the beams of truth, denies him rest, 
And proves a raging scorpion in his breast. 
No pleasure ? Arc domestick comforts dead } 
Are all the nameless sweets of friendship fled ? 244 
Has time worn out, or fashion put to shame, [fame ? 
Oood sense, good health, good conscience, and good 
4.J these belong to virtue, and all prove, 
That virtue has a title to your love. 
Have you no touch of pity, that the poor 
Stand starv'd at your inhospitable door ? 2M 

Or if yourself, Jtoo scantily j^pplied. 
Need help, let honest industry provide. 
Earn, if you want ; if you abound, impart , 
These both are pleasures to the feeling heart 



TH£ PROGRESS OF IIRROUIL 99 

No pleasure ? Has Bome siekl j eastern wasle SK 

Sent us a wind to parch us at a blast ? 

Can British Paradise no scenes afford 

To please her sated and indifferent lord f 

Are sweet philosophy's enjoyments nm 

Quite to the lees ? And-has reli^n none ? Ml 

Brutes capable would tell jon tie a lie, 

And judge you from the kennel and the sty. 

Delights like these, ye sdnsual and proftae, 

Te are bid, hegg^dy besoogrht to entertain ; 

Caird to these crystal strearas, do ye turn off 265 

Obscene to swill and swallow at-a trough ? 

Envy the beast then, on whom Heay'n bestow* 

Tour pleasures, with no ourses in the dose. 

Pleasure admitted in undue degree 
Enslaves the will, nor leaves the jud^ent free* 930 
Tis not alone the grape's enticing juice. 
Unnerves the moral powers, and mars their use t 
Ambition, av'rice, and the lust of fame, 
And woman, lovely woman, does the same. 
The heart surrender'd to the ruBng power 89^ 

Of some ungovem'd passion every hour, 
Finds by degrees the truths, that once bore sway, 
And all their deep impressions, wear away ; 
So coin grows smooth, in traiHck current past'd. 
Till CsBSPjr'B image is ef!ac'd at last. 960 

The breach, tho* small at first, soon opeaiai^ widf , 
In rushes folly with a fuU-moon tide, 
Then welcome errours of whatever siie, 
To justify it by a thousand lies. 

As cr 3eping ivy clings to wood or stont, 966 

And hides the ruin that it feeds upon ; 
So sophistry cleaves close to and protects 
Sin's rotten trunk, concealing its defects; 
Mortals, whose pleasures are their only care. 
First wish to be impos'd on, and then are. 990 

And, lest the fulsome artifice should fail, 
Themselves will hide its coarseness with a veiL 



40 THE PROGRESS OP ERROUft. 

Rot more industrioas ard the just and trtie, 

To give to Virtue what is Virtue's doe — 

The praise of wisdom, comeliness, and worth, SOi 

And call her charms to pubHck notice fortb-^ 

Than Vice's mean and dishigennons race, 

To hide the shocking^ futures of her fkce. 

Her form with dress and lotion thej repur ;- 

Then kiss their idol, and pronounce her fidr; 300 

The sacred implement I now employ 
Might prove a mischief, or at best a toy ; 
A triHe, if it mofb but to amuse ; 
But, if to wrong the judgment and abute, 
Worse than a poniai^d in the basest hand, 306 

It stabs at once the morals of a land. 

Ye writers of what none with safety reads; 
footing it in the dance that Fancy leads ; 
fe novelists, who mar what ye wovdd mei;id, 
Sniveling and'driv'ling fblly without end ; 310 

Whose corresponding misses fill the ream 
With sentimental frippery and dream. 
Caught in a delicate soft silken net 
By some lewd earl, or rakehell baronet ; 
Ye pimps, who under virtue's fkir pretence, 315 

Steal to the closet of young innocence, 
And teach her, unexperienced yet and green. 
To scribble as you scribbled at fifteen ; 
Who, kindling a combustion of desire, 
With some cold moral think to quench the fire , 390 
Though all your engineering proves in vwn. 
The dribbling stream ne'er puts it out again. 
O that a verse had pow'r, and could command 
Far, far away these fiesh-flies of the land ; 
Who fasten without mercy on the fair, 335 

And suck, and leave a craving maggot there ! 
Howe'er disguis'd, th* inflammatory tale, 
And cover 'd with a fine-spun specious veil ; 
Such writers, and such readers, owe the gust 
And relish of their pleasure all to lust. 830 



THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 41 

But the muse, «4gle pinion'd, has in view 
A quarry more important still than you ; 
Down, down the wind she swims, and sails awiji 
Now stoops upon it, and now grasps the prey. 

Petronius ! aU the muses weep for thee ; 338 

But er'ry tear shall scald thy memory ; 
The ^r<«ces too, while Virtue at their shrine, 
Lsy bleeding under that soft hand of thine, 
Fell each a mortal stab in her own breast, 
AbfiGrr'd the sacrifice, and curs'd tlie priest. 310 

Thou pohsh'd and high finish'd foe to ^ruth^ 
Graybeard corrupter of our listening youth, 
Co purjgre and skim away the filth of vice, 
That so refin'd it might the more entice. 
Then pour it on the morals of thy son *, 315 

To taint his heart, was worthy of thme own! 
Plow, while the poison all high life pcrvadef. 
Write, if thou canst, one letter from the sbadety 
One, and one only, charg'd with deep regret, 
That thy worst part, thy principles, live yet ; 360 

One sad epistle thence may cure mankuid 
Of the plague spread by bundles left behind. 
Tie granted, and no pltuner tmth appears, 
Our most important are our earliest years; 
The Mind, impressible and soft, with ease 35^ 

Imbibes and copies what she hears and Boe»y 
And through life's labyrkith holds fiuit the clew, 
That Education gives her, false or true, 
Plants rais'd with tenderness are seldom strong ; . 
Man*8 coltish disposition asks the thong ; 3G0 

And, without disciplme, the fav'rite child. 
Like a neglected forester, runs wild. 
But we, as if good qualities would grow 
Spontaneous, take but httle pains to sow ; 
We give some Latin, and a smatch of Greek ; 365 
Teach him to fence, and figure twice a week: 
And having done, we tliink the best we can^ 
Praise his proficiency, and dub him rnan. 
4» 






«i THE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 

From school to Cam or Jsis, ahd thenee hoitie } 
And thence with all convenient speed to Rome^ 370 
With rev'irend tutor clad in habit lay, 
To tease for cash, and quarrel with all day ; . 
With memorandum book for ev'ry town, 
And ev'ry post, and whore the chaise broke dvvm. 
His stock, a few French phrases got by heart, Sll* 

With much to learn, but nothing to impart : 
The youth, obedient to his ttre*8 commands, 
Sets off a wanderer into fbreign lands. 
Surprised at all they meet, the gosUng pair, 
With awkward gait, stretoh'd neck, an^ nlly stare. 
Discover huge cathedrals built with rtone, 381 

And steeples towering high much like our crnn ; 
But show peculiar light by many a grin 
At popish pnctMen observ'd within. 

Ere long some bowing, smirking, EHSiart alM 385 
Remarks two loit'rers, that hare lost their wi^ } 
And being always prim*d with pt^esse 
For men of their appearance uid address. 
With much oompassioD undertakes the task. 
To tell them more than they hate wit to ask ; 300 

Points to inscripticmB "vHicaresoe'er they tread^ 
Such as, when legiUe, were never read. 
But, being canker'd irow and half worn oot. 
Craze antiquarian bndne with endless doubt ; 
Some headless hteo, €a»wom» Ctesar shew#^ 395 

Defective only in his Roman nose ; 
Exhibits elevations, draarings, plani^ 
Models of Herculanean pots iumI pans ; 
And sells them medals, which, if neither faro 
Nor ancient, will be so, preserved with care. 400 

Strange the recital ! from whaterer cause 
His great improvemmat and new light he draws, 
The squire, once bashful, is shame&c'd no more^ 
But teems with pow'rs he never folt before : 
Whether increased momentum, and the force 405 

With which from clime to clime he iq[>ed his course. 



..Ji 



TUH PAOGRESS OF BR&OUR. 43 

Aa axles sometimes kindle as they gOj) 

ChaTd him, and brofight dull nature to a ^w ; 

Or whether clearer skies and sofVer air, 

That make Italian flow'rs so sweet and fiur, 410 

Freshening his lazy spirits as he ran, 

Unlblded genially and spread the man : 

Returning he proclairas by many a. grac«> 

By shrugs and strange coBtortiom of his fiuM, 

How much a donee, that has been teat to roaiBt 415 

Excels a dunce, that has been kept at home. 

Accomplishaieiits kaivm taken virtae's plac^y 
And wisdom &Ub befi>Fe ezterieur grace : 
We slight tiie piecioas kernel of the stone, 
And toil to polish it/i rough coat alone. 490 

A just deportment, manners grae'd with ease, 
Elegant phrase, and figure fona'd to please, . 
Are qualities that seem to comprehend 
Wliatever parents, guardians, sohoole, hiteiMl } 
Hence an imfumish'd and a listless nand, 435 

Though busy, trifling } empty, thoa^ reifiM > 
Hence all that interferes, and dafes to elosk 
With indolence and luxury, is trash : 
While learning, onee Uie man's OKehi^Te fUidi^ 
Seems verging fast toward* ihd ^mid« flkfet 4)0 

Learning itself, reoeiVd into a mind 
By nature weak, or Ticiously mc\m% 
Serves but to lead philotophenbastr^y, 
Where children woidd witii ease diieem the Hhif, 
And of all arts sagacious dupes hiveilty 436 

To cheat themselves and gain Uie wortd^eaMiilfi 
The wor^ is^--Sertpture warp'd from its intent 

The carriage bowls akmg, and all are pleasM 
[f Tom be sober, and the wheels well greas*d ; 
But if the rogue have gone a cnp toe fkr, 440 

Lefl out hb linchpin or forgot his tar^ 
It BuiTers interruption and delay. 
And meets with hind'rance in the smoothest way 
When some hypoUifssis sbsurd and vain 



44 TIIE PROGRESS OF ERROUR. 

Has fiird with all its fumes a critick's brain, 445 

The text, that sorts not with his darling whim, 

Thoujrh plain to others, is obscure to him. 

Tho will made subject to a lawlesa force, 

All is irregular and out of course ; 

And judgment drunk, and brib'd to lose his wa/i 450 

Winks hard, and talks of darkness at noonday. 

A critick on the sacred book sliould be 
Candid and learn'd, dispassionate and freo » 
Free from the wayward bias bigots feel, 
From fimcy*s influence, and intemperate zeal ; 455 
But above all, (or let the wretch refrain. 
Nor touch tlie page he cannot but profane,) 
Free from the domineering power of lust ; 
A lewd interpreter is nevejr just. 

How shall I speak thee', or tliy power address, 4G0 
Thou god of our idolatry, the press ? 
By tliee, religion, liberty, and laws, 
Exert their influence, and advance thqir cause ; 
By tliee worse plagues than Pharaoh's land befell, 
Diffused, make earth the vestibule of Hell ; 465 

Thou fountain, at which drink the good and wise ; 
Thou ever-bubbling spring of endless lies ; 
Like Eden's dread probationary tree. 
Knowledge of good and evil is from tliee. 

No wild enthusiast ever yet could rest, 470 

Till half mankind were Uke himself possessed. « 

Pliilosophers, who darken and put out 
Eternal truth by everlasting doubt ; 
Church quacks, with passions under no command, 
Who fill the world with doctrmes contraband, 475 

Discoverers of tJ«ey know not what, confin'd 
Within noi)ounds— the bUnd that load the blind j 
To streams of popular opinion drawn. 
Deposit in those sliallows all their spawn. 
The wriggling fry soon fill the creeks around, 480 

Pois'ning the waters where their swarms abound 
Scorn'd by the nobler tenants of tho flood. 



THE PROGRESS OP ERROUR. 45 

Minnfows and grndgeons gorge the trnwholesome food. 

The propagated myriads spread to fast, 

E'en Lewenhoeck hunself wonid stand agfaa^ 485 

Employ *d to calftnhite' th' enormous sum, 

And own hi* orah<«onipiiting powers o'erconH; 

Is this hyperbole ^ The worid'weU known, 

Tour sober thought* wffl hardly find it one. 

Fresh confidence tlie specnlotist takes 400 

From every hair-brain*d proaelyte he makeii : 
And therefore prints. Himself but halfdoceiT'd, 
Tin others hare the sooihing tale beliey'd. 
Hence comment after c^Hnment, spun as fhie 
As bloated spiders draw the flimsy line. 49S 

Hence' the same word, that bids our lusts obey. 
Is misapplied to sanctify their sway. 
If stubborn Greek refuse to be his friend, 
Hebrew or Syriack shall be fore'd to bend. 
If languages and copies all cry, No— 500 

Somobody prov'd it centuries ago. 
Like trout pursued, the critick in despair 
Darts to the mud, and finds his safety there. 
Women, whom custom has forbid to fly 
The scholar's pitch, (the scholar best knows why,) 50^ 
With all the simple and unletter'd poor, 
Admire his learning, and almost adorft. 
Whoever errs, the priest can ne*er bo wrong, 
With such fine words familiar td his tongue. 

Ye ladies I (for indifTrent in your cause, 510 

I should deserve to fbrfbit all applause,) 
Whatever shocks or gives the least oflenc^^ 
To virtue, delicacy, truth, or sense 
(Try the criterion, 'tis a faithful guide,) 
Nor has, nor can have, Scripture on its side. * 51S 

None but an author knows an author's eares^ 
Or Fancy's fondness for the child she bear*; 
Committed once into the publick arms, 
The baby SeeMs to stnile with added charms. 
Like something precious ventur'd far firom shoro, 6(l{§ 



46 THE PROORBSS OF ERROUa 

Tis valued for the dang:er*s sake the more. 

He views it with complacency supremo, 

Solicits kihd attention to his dream ; 

And daily more enamnur'd of the cheat 

Kneels, and asks Heav'n to bless the dear deceit. 6k5 

So one, whose story serves at least to show 

Men lov*d their own productions \wng ago, 

Woo*d an unfeeling statue for his wife, . 

Nor rested till the gods had giv'n it life. 

If some mere driv'ller suck the sugar*d fib, 530 

One that still needs his leading string and bib. 

And praise his genius, he is so^n repaid 

In praise applied to the same part — his head * 

For 'tis a rule, that holds for ever true, 

Grant me discernment," and I grant it you. 530 

Patient of contradiction as a child. 
Affable, humble, diffident, and mild ; 
Such was Sir Isaac, and such Boyle and Locke : 
Your blund'rer is as sturdy as a rock* 
The creature is so sure to kick and bite, 640 

A muleteer's the man to set him right. 
First Appetite enlists him Truth's sworn foe, 
Then obstinate Self-will confirms him so. 
Tell him he wanders ; tliat his crrour leads 
T<y fatal ills ; that, tho' the path he treads 54& 

Be flow'ry, and he see no cause of fear, 
Death and the pains of Hell attend him there ; # 
In vain : tho slave of arrogance and pride, 
Ho has no hearing on the prudent side. 
His still-refuted quirks he still repeats ; 650 

New-rais'd objections with new quibbles meets ; 
Till, sinking in the quicksand he defends. 
He dies disputing, and the contest ends — 
But not the mischiefs ; they, still left behind, 
Like thistle seeds, are sown by every wind. 660 

Thus men go wrong with an ingenious skill ; 
Bend the straight rule to their own crooked will ; 
And with a clear and shining .^Amp supphed, -< 



THE ^JtOGRBSS OF ERROUIt 47 

First put it out, then take it for a guide. 

Halting on crutches of unequal size, GOO 

One leg by truth sui^tortedy one by lies ; 

They sidle t»the goal with afwkward pace, 

Secure of nothing — but to k«o the race. 

Faults in the life breed errours in the braioy 
And these reciprocal^ those again. 566 

The mind and conduct mutually imprint 
And fltanp theii image in each other's mini ; 
Each sire, and dam, of an infernal race, 
Begetting and conceiving all that's base. 

None sends his arrow to the mark in riew, §70 

Whose hand is feeble, or his aim untrue. 
For tho*, ere yet the shaft is on the Wing, 
Or when it first forsakes th' elostick siring, 
It err but little from th' intended line, 
It falls at last far wide q£ his design ; 57S 

So ho, wlio seeks a mansion in tlie sky, 
Must watch his purpose with a steadfast eyo. 
Th&t prize belongs to none but the ftincere, 
The least obliquity is fatal here. 

With caution tasto the sweet Circoan cup: 580 

He that sips often at last drinks it up. 
Habits are soon assum'd ; but when we striy# 
To strip theni otf, 'tis being flay'd alive. ♦ 

Caird to the temple of impuro delight. 
Ho that abstains, and ho idone, does right 586 

If a wish wander tliat way, call it home ; 
He cannot long be safe whose wishes roam. 
Bot, if you pass the threshold, you are caught ; 
Die then, if pow'r Almighty save you not. 
There hardening by degrees, till double steel'd, 590 
Take leave of Nature's God, and God reveal'd ; 
Then laugh at all you trembled at before ; 
And, joining the free thinkers' brutal roar. 
Swallow the two grand nostrums they dispense- 
That Scripture lies, and blasphemy is sense. '596 



m THE PBOUEBSS OF ERROUR. 

If clemency revolted by abuse 

Be damnabio, then dainn'd without ezonse. 

Some dream that they c«m silence when they wcD, 
The storm of passion, and say, ^^ Peocs, h4 still ;" 
But, " Thus far tmd no further;' wheM addressed 6Q0 
To the wild wave, or wUder Iraman hreast, 
lB^>Iies authority that never casi. 
That never ougrht to be the lot of man. 

But, muse^ forbear ; long ^flights forebode a£dl ; 
Strike on the doep-ton'd chord theaum of all. G06 

Hear the just law — the judgment of the skies \ 
He that hates toruth sbdl bo the dupe of lies: 
And he that wUl be cheated to the last, 
Delusions strong as Hell shall bind him fast. 
But if the wand'fer his mistake discern, 610 

Judge his own ways and sigh for a return, 
Bewilder 'd once, must he bewail his loss 
Fer ever and for ever ? ^2h-<-tho escoss ! 
There, and there only, (though the deist rave. 
And atheist, if earth bear 'so base a slave ;) 616 

There, and there only, is the power to save. 
There no delusive hope invites despair ; 
No mockVy meets you, no deception there. 
The spells and charms, that blinded you be£bi% 
All vanish there, and fascinate no more. €2i 

I am no preacher, let this hint suffice — 
The cross once seen is death to ev*ry vice ; 
Eise he that hung theco^ su0br*d all his pain, 
Bled, groan'dy and ogoni^'d, and died in j 



TRUTH. 



Penaantur trutinA-^HoR. Lib. II. Epist. 1. 

MAN, on the ^^MbkfOB^^t^w oferfow toa»'dy 
His ship half founder'd, and hit«o]iip«JW iosi, 
Sees far as humaa opticks amy coraniaBd, 
A sleeping fog, and ftuoies it dry laad \ 
Spreads all his canvass, ev'ry sinew pUes; ^ 

Pants for't, aims at it, enters it, imd dies I 
Hien farewell all self-sati^yingf ^oheroes, 
His well-binlt systems, philosophit^ di>eain8 
Deceitful views of future Miss, fivdwell ! 
He read» his sentenee at the flames of Hell. 10 

Hard lot of maar-to toil for the revmrd 
Of virtue, aiid yet lose it ! Wherefore hard .' — 
He that would wm the taoe roust guide has horse 
Obedient to the eustoros of the course ; 
Else, tho' uneqna]!*d to the goal he flies, 15 

A meaner than himsrif ii&ail gain the prixe. 
Qrace leads the rigiit way ; if you 4dioese tho wrong, 
Take it and perish ; but restrain your tongue ; 
Charge not with light suflieient, and left free, 
Your wilful-swcide on God's decree. 20 

Oh how unlike the eompiex works of man, 
Hbav*n*8 easy, artless, unencumber'd plan I 
No meretrioiottt graces to beguile, 
No clust'ring ornaments to clog the pile ; 
From ostentation as iVom weakness fre», 25 

It stands like the cerulean arch we aoe, 
Majcstick in its own simplicity. 

Vol. I. 5 



50 TRUTH. 

Inscribed above the portal, from afar' 

Cbnspicuous as the brightness of a stiir. 

Legible only by the light the}' give, 30 

Stand the soul-quick *ning words — bcUeve qnd live. 

Too many, shock'd at what should charm them most, 

Despise the plain direction, and are lost. 

Heav'n on such temm ! (they cry with proud disdain,) 

Incredible, impossible, and vain ! — , 35 

Rebel, because *tis easy to obey : 

And scorn, for its own sake, the gracious way. 

These are the sober, in whose cooler brains 

Some tliought of immortality remains ; . 

The rest too busy or too gay to wait 40 

On the sad theme, their everlasting stato, 

Sport for a day, and perish in a night, 

The foam upon the waters not so light. 

Who judg'd the pharisee ? What odious cause 
Exposed him to the vengeance of the ISiws ? 4t 

Had he seduc'd a virgin, wrong'd a friend, * ' 
Or stabb'd a man to serve some private end ? 
Was blasphemy his sin P Or did he stray 
From the strict duties of the sacred day ? 
Sit long and late at the carousing board ? b^ 

(Such were the sins with which he charg'd his Lol^.) 
No— the man's morals were exact, what then ? 
*Twas his ambition to be seen of men ; 
His virtues wtjre his pride ; and that one vice 
Made all his virtues gewgaws of no price ; ' 65 

He wore them as fine trappings for a ^ow, 
A praying, 83magogue-froquenting beau. 
The self-applauding bird, the peacock, se&— ^ 
Mark what a sumptuous pharisee is he ! 
Meridian sunbeams tempt him to unfold €^ 

H:3 radiant glories, azure, green, and gjold; 
He treads as if some solemn musick near. 
His measur'd step wore governed by his ear ; 
And seems to say — ^Y* meaner fowl, give placo^ 
I am all splendour, dignity, and grace ! 65 



TRUTH. fil 

'Not so the pheasant on his charms presamMiy 
Though he too has a glory in his plumes, 
He, christian-like, retreats with modest mica 
To the elose copse, or far soquester'd green. 
And shines without desiring to be seen. 70 

The plea of works, as arrogant and vain, 
Heay*n turns from with abhorrence and disdaui ; 
Not more affronted by avow'd neglect, 
Than by the mere dissemUer^s fisign'd respect. 
What is all righteousness that men devise ? 75 

What — but a sordid bargain ibr the skies ? 
But Christ ati aoo|i Would abdicate his own, 
As stoop from Heav'n to sell tho proud a thron» 

His dwelling a recess in some rode rock. 
Book, beads, and maple disli, his meagre stock • 80 

In shirt of hair and weeds of canvass diess'd. 
Girt with a bell rope that the pope has blessed ', 
Adust with stripes told out for ev>y crime, 
And sore tormented long before his time ; 
His pray'r preferred to sainta that cannot aid ; 65 

His praise postponed, and never to be paid ', 
See the sage hermit, by mankind admir'd. 
With all that big<»try adopts inspir'd, 
Wearing out life in his religious whim. 
Till his religious whimsy wears out him. . 90 

His works, his abstinence, his zeal allow'd. 
You think. him humble— Qod accounts him proud ; 
High in demand, though lowly in pretence. 
Of all his conduct tliis the genuine sense-^ 
My penitential stripes, my streaming blood, 05 

Have purchas'd Heav'n, and prov'd my title good. 
Turn eastward now, and Fancy si i all apply 
To your weak sight her telescopic k eye. 
The bramin kindles on his own bare head 
The sacred fire, sclf-torturmg his trade ; 100 

His voluntary pains, severe and long, 
Would give a barbarous air to British song ; 
No grand inquisitor oould worse invent, 



'cra£= 



5& TRUTH 

Than h« coBtrives to sofT^r, well content. 

Which is the saintHer worthy of th* twof IBS 

Past all dispute, yon anehorite, say yo«. 
Your sentence and mine differ. What s a Muue^ 
I say the hramin has the fidrerchdin. 
If sufferings, Scripture no where i p fcoumien ^, 
Dev* 4*d by self to answer selfish ends, 119 '• 

Give saintship, then* all Europe must aigvett- . 
Ten starving hermits snflbr less than he; 
. The truth, is, (if the truth may suit your ear 
And prejudice hare left a passage dear,) 
Pride has attained its most luxuriant *gtoWtii^ 115 

And poison'd eT*ry virtue in them both. 
Pride may be pamper*d while the ilei^ growi ksBi; 
Humility may cloUie an Engli^ dean ; 
That grace was CJowper's— his, confess'd by all*— 
Though placed in golden Durham's second stall. 120 
Not all the plenty of a bishop's board, • 
His palace, and his lacqueys, and " My lord," 
More nourish pride, that condescending vice, 
Tlian abstinence, and b«ggary, and lice ; 
It thrives in mis'ry, and fkbundant grows; 125 

In misery fools upon themselves impose. 

But why before us protestants produce 
An Indian mystick, or a French rscluse ? 
Their sin is plain ; but what have we to fear, 
Reform'd and well instructed ? You shidl hear. . 180 

Yon ancient prude, whose ^ther^d featnreaelKMv 
She might be young some fbrty years ago, 
Her elbows pinion*d close upon her hips, 
Her head erect, her fan upon her lips^ 
Her eye-brows areh*d, her eyes both gone astray 135 ' 
To watch yon am*rous couple in their play, 
With bony and unkerchierd neck defies 
The rude inclemency of wintry skies. 
And sails with lappet head and minckig airs, 
Duly at clink of bell to morning pray'rs. ^ 140 

To thrift and parsimony much inclin'd. 



TRUTH. O 

She yet allows lienelf tbtt boy behind ; 
' The 9h\v*Tmg urchiiii bending as he goes, 
With slipshod heels, and dewdrop at his nose ; 
His predecessor's coat advaac'd to wear, li5 

Whicii future pages yet are docnn'd to share. 
Carries her. Bible tuck'd beneath Ms arm. 
And hides his hands to keep his fingers warm. 

She half an angel in her own account, 
Doubts not hereafter with the saints to mount. 150 
Though not a grace appears on strictest search, 
But tliat she fasts, and, item, goes to church. 
Conscious of age she recollects her youth. 
And tells, not always, with an eye to truth. 
Who spanned her waist, and who, where'er he can 0, 
Scrawl'd upon glass Miss Bridget's lovely name ; 1^ 
Who^stole her slipper, fill'd it with tokay, 
And drank the little bumper er'ry day. 
Of temper as ennenom'd as an asp. 
Censorious, and her ey'ry word a wasp ; 160 

In faithful mem'ry she records the primes. 
Or real or fictitious of the times ; 
Laughs at the reputations she has torn. 
And holds them dangling at arm's length in scon. 

Such are the fruits of sanctimonious pride, 165 

Of malice fed while flesh is mortified : 
Take, Madam, the reward of all your prayers, 
Where hermits and where bramias meet with theirs , 
Your portion is with thera^^Nay, never frowi^ 
But if you please, some fathoms lower down. 170 

Artist, attend-^your brushes and your paint- 
Produce them — take a chair — now draw a saint. 
Ok sorrowful and sad ! the streaming tears 
Channel her -cheeks — a: Niobe appears ! 
Is this a saint i" Throw tints and all away*- 175 

True Piety is cheerful as the day, 
Will weep indeed and heave a pitying groan 
For others' woes, but smiles upon her own. 

What purpose has the King of saints in view » 



6t TKDTH. 

Why falls the Goqnl like a gnBiowdvrf 18& 

To call up plenty horn ikff tsenmig earthy 

-Or cuno the desert witli a tei^bld dearth? 

Is k that Adam's effiqniuip nay be sav^d 

From servile fear, or be the ranre ensiav^A .^ 

To loose the links thai ^'d onakiiid befiN% ttS 

Or bind them fiister e% and add stlU mat* f 

The freebom Christian baa no ehams to prewv 

Or, if a chabi, Ike goldes ana of love ; ' 

No fear attends to <{iieaeh hk gWwk g ftras^ 

What fear ha feds 1^ ftatitada iaqnras* 190 

Shall he for soeli ddir'naea hmAy wvonghtr 

Recompense HI ? Ha \fVBMm$ at the thou^. 

His mast8ff*8 intemsfe and iM own ooariun^d^ 

Prompt er*zy nunrement of his heart and miad ; 

Thought, word, and deewl, his liberty aTioea^ li5 

His freedom u the firee<k>ni of a prince^ 

Man's obligations infinite^ of coarse 
His life should prove that ka percetres their fetea f 
His utmost he eaa render is but small — 
The principle and motiva idl in alL SOO 

You have two serT8nts>^Tora, an ^nik, df rogva, 
Prom top to toe the Crata now m togvOf 
Genteel in figure, eai^ in address. 
Moves without nois^ and swifl ss airexpreify 
Reports a mes s ag e with a pleasing graea, IM 

Expert in all the daties of his place ; 
Say, on what hinge does hts obedienee mava f 
Has he a world of gratitude and love ? 
Ne, not a i^>ark-^*tis all mere riiarper's ptay 
He likes your house, your housemaid, and your pay ; 
Reduce his wages, or get rid of her, 911 

Tom quits you, with— -Your most obedient,' Sir. 

The dinner serv'd, Charles takes his usual stand, 
Watches your eye, anticipates command ; 
Sighs, if perltaps your appetite should fail ; 21S 

And,Jf he but suspects a frown, turns pale ; 
Consults all day your interest ar.d your case, 



J 



TEITTH. 

Ricblf rewanWif Im en but \ , 

And, proud to auikM hi« fina attedmeBt \aumu, 

To flare your Ufiit would nakty rak hkenmu 990 

Now which •iamb faifheat m ymm.mnMOM thooglrt i 
Charles, withou* dovbty m^ 7MK»-«n4 so b» oogfat ; 
Qae act, tfaift fimn atkBaldbi iMart praoeada, 
Excels ten thousand UMveenary daada> 
Thus HeaY*n approf«s as bsuest and shRera, 93ft 

l^hc work of gentians kvet and filial ftar ; 
But with ayerted ejpea th' omnkrisiit Madgm 
Sooms the base hiraliiigvand the slmrisb dfttd^. 
Where dwell these matdileaB samts f— «id Curie «iea : 
Ey'n at your nda, Sir, and befen your eyes, 930 

The favour'd finr^th* enthusiasts yo« despise^ 
And pleas'd at heart, because oa holy gfomid 
Sometiipes a canting hypocrite is fbuad, 
Reproach a people with a smgrle &1], 
And cast his filthy garaieiit at them aU. 9SS 

AttemlK-an apt sbuMtude shall shew 
Whence springs the eeoduct that offends yott seu 

See where it smokes alonf the somdkig phihi, 
Blown all adaat, a driving, daihiag' rehiy 
Peal upon peal redoubling all around^ 9|0 

Shakes it again and fiister te tiie ^feuad r 
Sow flashily wide» new glaaeiag as m play,^ 
'SNr^ beyond thou^t the lightnings dart away* 
Rre yet it came the tra^'Uer urg*d his steed. 
And hurried, but with wtsueeeesfol i^>eed ; 345 

Now drench'd throughout, and hop^ess of his oue, 
He drops the rein, and leaves him to his paeew / 

Suppose, unlook'd for in a seen^so rude, 
Long hid by interposing hHl or wood. 
Some mansion, neat and elegantly dressed, 960 

By some kind hospitable heart possessed* 
Offer him warmth, security, and rest ; 
Think with what pleasure, safe, and at his ease 
He hears the tempest howling in the trees ; 
What glowing thanks his lips and heart employ 255 



M TRUTH. 

While danger past it iorn'd to preaeat jo/. 
80 fiiros it with the sinner, when he feehi • 
A grrowing dread of vengeaace at his heels ; 
His eonscience) like.a glas^ kke before, 
Losh'd into loaniiog waves begins to rear ', SCO 

The law grown damoroos, though silent long« 
Arraigns him,— charges him with ev'ry wrong- 
Asserts the ii|^ of his ^fended Lord, 
And death or restitution is the word ; 
The last impossible-*-^ ftars the first, 265 

And, havuig well deserv'd, expects the worst. 
Then welcome reiuge, and & peaiceful home ; 
(Ml fi>r a shelter from the wcath to eome i 
Crush me,je rocks; ye fiilling mountains, hide 
Or bury me in ocean's angry tide— 270 

The scrutiny of those ail-seeing eyes 
I dare not — And you need not, God replies : 
The remedy you want I freely give ; 
The book shall teach you— read, bdiieve, and live. 
Tis done — the raging storm is heard no more, 275 
Mercy receives him on her peaceful shore ; 
And justice, guardian of the dread conunond, 
Drops the red vengeance from his willing hand. 
A soul redeemed demands a life of praise v 
Hence the complezi<m of his future days, 280 

Hence a demeanour holy and unspeck'd, 
And the wodU's hatred, as its sure effect. 

Some lead a hfe unblamable and just, 
Their own dear virtue their unshaken trust : 
Tliey never sin— or if, (as all offend,) 2S5 

Some trivial slips their diily walk attend, 
The poor are near at hand, the chaige is small, 
A slight gratuity atones for all. 
For though the pope has lost liis int'rest here, 
And pardons are not sold as oncef they were, 290 

No papist more desirous (o compound, 
Than some grave siiuiers upon Englisli ground. 
That plea refuted, other quirks they seek — 



J- 



TRUTH. m 

Mercy ii iniinite, and man U weak ; 
The future shall oUtter^ the past, 2» 

And Heav'n no doubt shall bo their homo vilaat 

Come then-*€. still small whisper is your ea»^ 
He has no hope who never had a. fbar \ 
And he that nevisr doviited of hi» state, 
He may pei^p ep S' p e r hape he n a t yi loo late. 8011 

The path to bliss abeaade witfa maoya «ia»{ 
Le&minf is oae> andiwil, however rare^ 
The Frenchman, first in litefas3r ^w^ 
(Mention hHn if you ptoaas. Voltana ?-^T1m noM^) 
With splntj geaiosy ele<|iien8o, supplied, 98S 

Liv'd long', wrote jnnefa, llMqrh!d!h0Uti^v<uid died ; 
The Scripture waa hia jest book, whenee be dww 
Bon mots to gall the Christian and the Jew ; 
An infidel in health, b«^ what when sick? 
Oh — then a text would towh him at the qoiofc^ 3IOr- 
View liim at Paris in hia last caieeiv 
Surrounding tiirongs the demigod reveie, 
Exalted on his pedestal of pride) 
And fiun'd with fronkineense on ev'ry side, 
He begs tlieir (lattery with hia latest breath, SUA 

And smother'd in't at last, is prais^ to deaths 

Yon cottager, who weaves at her own deor, 
Pillow and bobbins all her httle store ; 
Content, though mean, and cheerful if net gay 
Shuffling her threads about the livelong day, 399 

Just earns a scanty pittance, and at night 
Lies down secure, her Iteort and pocket light ; 
She, for her humble sphere by nal to fit, 
Has little understanding, and no wit, 
Receives no praise ; but though hor lot be suoh^ SUd 
(Toilsome and indigent^) she rendors much : 
Just knows, and. knows no^more, her Bible tn»— 
A truth the brilliant Fl^enelimaa never knew ; 
And in that oharter rood^ witli sparkling eyes 
Her title to a treasure in the skies* TSfi 

O happy peasant ! Oh unhappy bard ! 



) 



fi8 TRUTH. 

His the jjiere tinsel, hors the rich reward i 

He prais'd perhaps for agre'p yet to come, 

She never heard of half a mile from home : 

He, lost in errours, his yain heart prelers, 335 

She, safe in the sironlicity of hers. 

Not many wise, rich, noble, or profound 
In science, win one inch of heavenly ground. 
And is it not a mortifying thought 
TJie poor should gain it, and the rich should coi. 340 
No, — the voluptuaries, who ne*er forget 
One pleasure lost, lose Heav*n without regret ; 
Regret would rouse them, and give birth to pray*r, 
Pray'r would add &ith, and faith would fix them there. 
Not that the Former of us all, in tins, 345 

. Or ought he does, is govem*d by caprice ; 
The supposition is replete with sin. 
And bears the brand of blasphemy bum*d in. 
Not so— the silver trumpet's heav'nly call 
Sounds for the poor, but sounds alike for all : 350 

Kings are invited, and would ^ings obey, 
No slaves on earth more welcome wore than they ; 
But royalty, nobility, and state. 
Are such a dead preponderating weight. 
That endless bliss, (how strange soe'er it seem,) 355 
In counterpoise, flies up and kicks the beam. 
*Tis open, and ye cannot enter, — why ? 
Because ye will not, Conyers would reply — 
And ho says much that many may dispute 
And cavil at with ease, but none refute. 360 

O bless'd effect of penury and want, 
The seed sown there, how vigorous is the plant ! 
No soil like poverty for growth divine, 
As leanest land supplies the richest wine. 
Earth gives too little, giving only bread, 965 

To nourish pride, or tupi the weakest head : 
To them the sounding jargon of the schools 
Seems what it is — a cap and bells for fools : 
The light tliey walk by, kindled from above, 



TRUTH. » 

Shows tlicm Iho sl^oilcst way.to life and low ; 370 
Tficy, stmn^rs to lh« conlrovereial field, 
Where deists, alwaytf foiVd, yet scorn to yield, 
And neyer chedk'd by what impedes the wise, 
Believe, rush forward, and possess tlie prize. 
Envy, yo ^reat, the dull unletter'd small : 375 

Ye have much cause for envy — but not all. 
Wo boast some rich ones whom the Oospel sways, 
A nd one who wears a coronet, and prays ; 
Like gleanings of an olive tre« they show 
Here and there one upon the topmost bough. 380 

How readily upon the Gospel plan; 
That question has its answer — ^What is man ? 
SlnfUl and weak, in er*ry sense a wretch ; 
An instrument, wh<>8e chords, upon the stretch, 
And strain'd to the lant screw that he can bear, 385 
Yield only discord in his Maker's ear^: 
Once the bless'd residence of truth divine, 
Glorious as Solyma*8 int^iour shrine, 
Where, in his own oracular abode. 
Dwelt visibly the light-creating God : 390 

But made long since like Babylon of old, 
A den of miscliiefe never to be told ; 
And she, once mistress of the realms around. 
Now scattered wide, and no where to be found, 
As soon shall rise and reascend the throne, 395 

By native pow*r and energy her own, 
As Nature at her own peculiar dost. 
Restore to man the glories he has lost. 
Go— bid the winter cease tjo chill the year, 
F.c|>lice the wand'ring comet in his sphere, lOQ 

Then boast, (but wait for that unhop'd-for hour,) 
Tlio self-restoring arm of human pow'r. 
But what is man in his own proud esteem ? - 
Hear him — himself the poet and^e theme: 
A monarch cloth'd with majosty and awe, 409 

His Mind, his kingdom, and his will, his law ; 
Grace in his mien, and glory in his eyes, * 



m rauTH. 

Soprenio on earthy and worthy of Um skies, 

Strength in his heai't, dominion in his nod, 

And thunderbolts sxoepted) quite a god ! 410 

So sings he, duum^d with his own mind and fomit 

The song magnifioent — the theme a worm ! 

Himself so much the source of his delight, 

His Maker has no beauty in his sight. 

See where he sits, c<mtomplatiye and fi]C*d, 41& 

Ploadure and wonder in his features ntiz'd ; 

His passions tam'd, and all at his control, 

How perfect the composure of his soul i 

Complacency haslxeath'd a gentle gale 

O'er all his thoughts, and sweil'd his easy sail : 4^ 

His books well triinm'd and in the gayest style 

Like regimented coxcombs rank and file, 

Adorn his intellects as weil a»shelyes, 

And teach him notions splendid as themselres : 

The Bible only elands neglected there, 425 

Though that of all mcNSi worthy of his care ; 

And like an infant, troublesome awake. 

Is led to bleep for peace and quiet sake. 

What shall the man deserve of human k^id, 
Whose happy skill and industry combined 43§ 

Shall prove, (what argument could never yet,) 
The Bible an imposture and a cheat ? 
The praises of the libertine profess'd, 
The worst of men, and eurses of the best. 
Where ehould the lifli%, weeping o'er his woes; 435 
The dying, trembling at the awful dose ; 
Where the betray'd, forsaken, and oppressed. 
The thousands whom the world forbids to rest, 
Where snould they fmd, (those comforts at an end 
The Scripture yields,) or hope to find a friend ? 440 
Sorrow might muse herself to madness then, 
And seeking exile from the signt of men. 
Bury herself in solitude profound, 
Grov/ frantick with her pangs, and bite the ground. 
Thus often Unbelief, grown sick of life, 445 



J 



fr= 



TRUTH. 61 

Flies to the tempting pool, or felon knilb. 

The jury meet, the coroner ia short, 

And lunacy the verdict of the court ; % 

Reverse the sentence, let the truth be kiiow% 

Such lunacy is ignorance alone , . 450 

They knew not, what some bishops may not know. 

That Scripture is the only cure of wo ; 

That field of prqmise, how it flings abroad 

Its odour o'er the Christian's thorny road * 

The soii , reposing on assur'd relief, 455 

Feels herself happy amidst all her grief, 

Forgets her labour as she toils along. 

Weeps tears of joy, and bursts into a song. ^ 

But the same word, that, like the polish'd share, 
Ploughs up the roots of a belieyer's care, 4G0 

Kills, too, the flow'ry weeds, where'er they grow, 
That bind the sinner's Bacchanalian brow. 
Oh that unwelcome voice of heavenly love, 
Sad messenger of mercy from above ! 
How does it grate upon his thankless ear, 465 

Crippling hia pleasures with the cramp of fear *. 
His will and judgment at continual strife, 
That civil"Vfr«r imbitters all his life : 
In vain he points his pow'rs against the skies. 
In vain he closes or averts his eyes, 470 

Truth will intrude — she bids him yet beware ; 
And shakes the sceptick in the scomer's chair. 

Though various foes against tUt truth, combine. 
Pride above all opposes her design *, 
Pride, of a growth superiour to the ten, 473 

The subtlest serpent with the lofliest crest. 
Swells at the thought, and, kindling into rage, 
Would hiss the cherub Mercy firom the stage. 

And is the soul indeed so lost ? — she cries, 
Fall'n from her glory, and too weak to rise ? 480 

Torpid and dull beneath a frozen zone, 
Has she no spark tliat may be deem'd her own ? 
Grant her indebted to what zealots call 

Vox. I 



=^ 






j^ 



cy 



m TRUTH. 

Grace undeserv'd, yet surely not for all — 

Some beams of rectitude she yet displays, 485 

Some love of virtue, and some pow'r to praise ; 

Can lift herself above corporeal things. 

And, soaring <5n her own unborrow*d wings, 

Possess herself of all that's good or true, 

Assert the skies, and vindicate her due. 400 

Past indiscretion is a venial crime, 

And if the youth, unmellow'd yet by time, 

Bore on his branch, luxuriant then and rude, 

Fruits of a blighted size, austere and crude, 

Maturer years shall happier stores produce, 495 

Andjneliorate the well-concocted juice. 

Then, conscious of lier meritorious zeal, \ 

To Justice she may make her bold appeal. 

And leave to Mercy, with a tranquil mind. 

The worthless and unfruitful of mankind. 500 

Hear, then, how Merey, slighted and defied, 

Rctprts the affront against tlie crown of Pride. 

Perish the virtue as it ought, abhorr'd. 
And the fool with it who insults his Lord. 
The atonement a Redeemer's love lias wrought, 505 
Is not for you — the righteous need it not 
Seest thou yon harlot wooing all she meets. 
The worn-out nuisance of the publick streets. 
Herself from morn to night, from night to morn, 
Her own abhorrence, a^d as much your scorn ! 5J0 
The gracious show'r, unlimited and free. 
Shall fall on her, when Heav'n denies it thee. 
Of all that wisdom dictates, this the drift, 
That man is dead in sin, aild life a gift. 

Is virtue, then, unless of Christian grov/th, 515 

Mere fallacy, or foolishness, or both ? 
Ten thousand sages lost in endless wo, 
For ignorance of what they could not know f 
That speech betrays at once a bigot's tongue — 
Charge not a God with such outrageous wrong. 520 
Truly not I — the oartial light men have, 



I" 



TRUTH. , 63 

My creed persuades me, well-employ'd, may taye ; 
While he that scorns the noonday beam, perverse, 
Shall find the blessing unimproy'd, a curse. 
Let heathen worthies, whose exalted mind 525 

Left sensuality and dross behind, 
Possess for me their undisputed lot, 
And take, unenvied, the reward they sought. 
But still ui virtue of a Saviour's plea, 
Not blind by choice, but destin*d not to see. 590 

Their fortitude and wisdom were a flame 
Celestial, though they knew not whence it came, 
Derived from the same source of light and grace, 
That guides the Christian in his swifler race ; 
Their judge was conscience, and her rule their law; 
That rule, pursued with reverence and with awe, 536 
Led them however falt'ring, faint, and slow, 
From what they knew, to what they wish'd to know. 
But let not him, that shares a brighter day, 
Traduce the splendour of a noontide ray, 540 

Prefer the twilight of a darker time, 
And deem his base stupidity no crime ; 
The wretch, who slights tlie bounties of the skies. 
And sinks', while favoured with the means to rise, 
Shall find them rated at their fiill amount, . 545 

The ^ood he scom'd all carried to account. 

Marshalling all his terro^rs as he came, 
Thunder, and earthquake, and devouring flame. 
From Sinai*s top Jehovah gave the law, 
Life for obedience, death for ev'ry flaw. 550 

When the great sov'ieign would his will express. 
He gives a perfect rule ; what can he less ? 
And guards it with a sanction as severe 
As vengeance can inflict, or sinners fear ; 
Else his own glorious rights he would disclaim, 55& 
And man might safely trifle with his name. 
He bids him glow with unremitting love 
To all on earth, and to himself above ; 
Condemns th' injurious deed, tlie slanderous tongue, 



64 TRUTH. 

The thought that meditates a brother*ii wroi^ : 060 

Brings not alone the mbro conspicuous part. 

His conduct, to the test, but tries his heart. 

Hark ! universal nature shook and groaned, 
Twas the last trumpet — see the Judge enthrone I 
Rouse all your courage at your utmost need, S65 

Now sununon ov'ry virtue — stand and pUAd. 
What ! silent ? is your boasting heard no mdre f 
That self-renouncing wisdom leam*d before, 
Had shed immortal glories on your brow, 
That all your virtues cannot purchase now. 576 

. All joy to the believer ! He can speak — 
Trembling, yet happy ; confident, yet meek. 

Since the dear hour that brought me to thy (boC, 
And out up all my follies by the root, 
I never trusted in an arm but thine, 875 

Nor hop'd, but in thy righteousness divine : 
My pray'rs and alms, imperfect and defird, 
Were but the feeble efforts of a child ; 
Howo'er perform 'd, it was their brightest part 
That they proceeded from a grateful heart ; 680 

Cleansed. in thine own all-purifying blood, 
Forgive their evil, and accept their good *, 
I cast them at thy feet — my only plea 
Is what it was, dependence upon thee ; 
While struggling in the vale of tears below, 585 

That never fkiPd, nor shall it fail mp now. 

Angclick gratulations rend the skies, 
Pride fsMa unpitied, never more to rise, 
Uuiniltty is crown'd, and Faith receiver tfw prise. 



EXPOSTULATION. 



Tantane, tarn patitns^ nuUo certamine tolU 
Dona sines f Vimo. 

WHY weeps the miue for England ? What appeaia 
In England's case, to nM>ye the mus6 ta tears ? 
From side to side of her delightful isle 
Is she not doth'd with a perpetual smile } 
Can Nature add a charm, or Art confer 6 

A new-found luxury not seen in her ? 
Where under Heav'n is pleasure more pursued, 
Or where does cold reflection loss intrude ? 
Her fields a rich expanse of wavy com, 
Pour'd out firom Plenty's overflowing hora; 10 

Ambrosial gardens, in which art supplies 
Tlie fervour and the force oi Indian skies ; 
Her peaceful shores, where busy Commerce waits 
To pour his golden tide through all her gates ; 
Whom fiery suns, that scorch the russet spice 1^ 

Of eastern groves, and oceans floor'd with io^y 
Forbid in vain to push his daring way 
To darker climes, or climes of brighter day ; 
Whom the winds wafl where'er the billows' rdl, 
From the world's girdle to the frctf en polo ; 20 

The chariots bounding in her wheel-worn streets, 
Her vaults below, where ev'ry vintage meets ; 
Her theatres, her revels, and hor Fports ; 
riie scenes to which not youth alone resorts. 

a* 



) 



66 EXPOSTULATION. 

But age, in spite of weakness and of pain, 2S 

Still haunts, in hope to dream of jrouth again ; 

AH speak her happy : let the muse lodi round 

From east to west, no sorrow can be found ; 

Or only what, in cottages confin*d. 

Sighs unregarded to the passing wind. 90 

Then wherefore weep for England ? l^tetafpDani 

Li England's case, to move the muse to tears f 

The proji^et wept for Israel : wish'd his eyes 
Were fountains fed with infinite supplies : 
For Israel dwelt in robbery and wrong ; 35 

There were the scorner's and the sland*rer*s tongue ; 
Oathffi used as plajrthings or convenient tools. 
As interest bias'd knaves, or fashion fools ; 
Adi^*ry, neighing at Ms neighlMrar's ddor ; 
Oppressicm, tob^rihg hard to grind the poor t 40 

The partial balance, and deceitful we^t ; 
The treach'rottt smite, a mask for seeret httttf ; 
Hypocrisy, formality in pray'r, 
And the dull service of the lip were there. 
Her women, insident and self-earess'd, ' 45 

By Vanity's unwearied Snger dress'd. 
Forgot the blush, that virgin fears impart 
To modest cheeks, and borrowed one from art * 
Were jiist^uch trifies, without worth or use, 
Ai^illy pride and idleness produce : 50 

CurPd, scented, fhrfoelow'd, and flounced arotmd, 
With feet too delicate to touch the ground. 
They stretck'd the neck, and rolfd the wanton c^, 
And siffh'd for every fool that fluttered by. 

He saw his peopte slaves to ev'ry lust, 56 

Lewd, avaricious, arrogant, unjus*. : 
He heard the wheels of an avenging God 
G/Toan heavily along the distant road j 
Saw Babylon set wide her two-IeavM brass 
To let the military deluge pass ; 00 

Jerusalem a prey, her glory jioilM, 
Ilor princes captive, and her treasure spoiPd : 



EXPOSTULATION. 87 

Wept tin all Israel heard hit Uttet crjr^ 
Stamped with his foot, and smote tipoh hi« tfai^h ; 
But wept, and stamp 'd, and smote his thigh in Tihi* K 
Pleasure is deaf when told of futore pain, 
And sounds prophetick are too rough to suit 
Ears long accustomed to the pleasing lute : 
They acom'd his inspiration and his theme, 
Pronounced him frantick, and his fears a dream ; 7B 
With self indulgence wing'd the fleeting hourtf, 
*V\l\ the foe found them, and down fell their toW*ri 

I ong time Assjrria bound them in her chain, 
Till penitence had purg'd the publickst^in. 
And Cyrus, with relenting pity mov'd, 15 

Return'd them happy to the land they lov'd ; 
There, proof against prosperity, a while 
They stood th6 test of her ensnaring smil^. 
And had the grace hi scenes of peace to sfaoW 
The vlTtues they had learA'd in scenes of wo. M 

But man is frail, and can but ill sustain 
A lon^ immunity fi-om grief and pain ; 
And after all the joys that Plenty leads, 
With tiptoe step,Vice silently succeeds. 

When he that ruVd them with a shepherd*i rod 66 
In form a man, in dignity a God, 
Came, not expected in that humble guise, 
To sift and search them with unerring eye* ; 
He found oonceai'd beneath a fair outside. 
The filth of rottenness, and worm of pride ; A 

Their piety a system of deceit. 
Scripture employ 'd to sanctify the cheat ; 
The pharisee the dup6 of his own art. 
Self idofiz*d, and vet a knare at heart. 

When nations are to perish in their nns, 95 

Tis in the church the leprosy begins ; 
The priest, whose office b with zeal sincere 
To watch the foimtain and preserve it clear, 
Carelessly nods and sleeps upcn the brink, 
vVhile ot\»ers poison what the flock mu)H drink ; 100 



m EXPOSTULATION. 

Or, waking at the call of lust alono, 

Infuses lies and errours of his omi ; 

His iinsospecting sheep believe it pure ; 

And, tainted by the very means of>ure, 

Catph from each other a contagious spot, ICi 

The foul forerunner of a gen'ral rot. 

Then '^ruih it hush'd, tliat Heresy may pretcb; 

And all is trash, that Reaw)n cannot reach : 

Then (rod's own image on the soul impressed 

Becomes a mock'ry, and a standing jest ; 110 

And Faith, the root whence only can arise 

The graces of a life that wins the skies, 

Loses at once 'all value and esteem, 

Pronounc'd by graybeards a pernicious dream : 

Then Ceremony leads her bigots forth, lit 

Prepared to fight for shadows of no worth ; 

While truths, on which eternal things depend, 

l^ind not, or hardly find, a single friend ; 

As soldiers watch the signal of command. 

They learn to bow, to kneel, to sit, to stand ; - 12* 

Happy to fill Religion*s vacant place 

With hollow form, and gesture, and grimace. 

Such, when the Teacher of his church was there, 
People and priest, the sons of Isradl were ; 
Stiff in the letter, lax in the design VS^ 

And import, of their oracles divine *, 
Theur learning legendary, false, absurd. 
And yet exalted above God's own word ; 
They drew a curse from an intended good, 
PufTd up with gifls they never understood. 130 

He judg'd them with as terrible a frown. 
As if not love, but wrath, had brought him down 
Yet he was gentle as soft summer airs. 
Had grace for others* sins, but none for theirs ; 
Through all he spoke a noble plainness ran — 135 

Rhet'rick is artifice, the work of man ; 
And tricks and turns, that fancy may devise. 
Axe far too mean for him that rules the ekies. 



EXPOSTULATION. 69 

TV astonk^'d rulgar trembled while he tore 
The mask from faces never seen before : 140 

He stripped the impo&tors in the noonday amiy 
Show'd that they followed all they seem'd to tUmm 
Their prayers made publick| their excesses kept 
As private as the chambers whore tliey alept * ^ 
Tho temple and its holy rites profao'd 145 

By miimm*ries he that dwelt in it disdained ; 
UplHlod hands, that at convenient times 
Coufd act extortion and the worst of crime f, 
Wasfa'd with a neatness scrupulously nice, "-• 

And free from 6v*ry taint but that of rice. tSb 

Judgment, however tardy, mends her paoA 
When Obstinacy once has conquered Grace. 
They saw distemper heaPd, and life restor'd. 
In answer to the fiat of his word ; 
Confessed the wonder, and with daring tongue I6( 
Blasphem'd th* authority from which it sprang. 
They knew by sure prognosticks seen on higl^ 
The future tone and temper of the sky ; 
But, grave dissemblers, could not understand, 
That Sin let loose speaks Punishment at hand. IGO 

Ask now of history's authentick page. 
And call up evidence from every ago ; 
Display with busy and laborious hahd 
The blessings of the most indebted land ; 
What nation will you find, wh6se annals prove 165 
So rich an interest in almighty love ? 
Where dwell they now, where dwelt in aneient dajf 
A people planted, watcr'd, blessed as they ? 
Let Egypt*^ plagues and Canaan's woes pioelaim 
The &vours pour'd upon the Jewiiih name ; J 70 

Their freedom purchased for them at ^e cost 
Of all their hard oppressors valued most ; 
Their title to a country not their own, 
Made sure by prodigies till then unknown ; 174 

For them, the states thoy left made wdste and void ; 
For them, the states to which they went destroy*d«' 



] 



70 EXPOSTULATION. 

A cloud to me&sure out their march by day, 

By night a fire to cheer the gloomy way : 

That moving signal summoning, when best 

Their host to move, and when it stay'd, to rest. 180 

For them the rockp dissolvM into a flood, 

The dews condensed into angelick food, 

Their very garments sacred — old, yet new, 

And Time forbid to touch them as he flow ; 

Streams, swelled above the bank, enjoined to stand, 195 

While they pass'd through to their appointed laad ; 

Their leader arm*d with meekness, zeal, and love. 

And graced with clear credentials from above r 

Themselves secured beneath the Almighty wing ; 

Their God their captain,* lawgiver, and king ; 190 

Crown*d with a thousand victories, and at last 

Lords of the conquered soil, tliere roote^ fast, 

In peace possessing what they won by war, 

Their name far published, and rever'd as far : 

Where will you find a race like theirs, endowed • 195 

With all that man e'er wish'd, or Heav'n bestow*d ? 

They, and they only, amongst all mankind 
Receiv'd the transcript of the eternal mind ; 
Were-trftsted with his own engraven laws, 
And constituted guardians of his cause ; 200 

Theirs were the prophets, theirs the priestly call, 
And theirs, by birth, the Saviour of us all. 
In vain the nations that had seen them rise 
With fierce and envious, yet admiring eyes. 
Had sought to crush Ihem, guarded as they were #i05 
By pow*r divine, and skill that could not err. 
Had they maintain'd allegiance firm and sure, 
And kept the faith immaculate and pure. 
Then the proud eagles of all-conquering Rome 
Had found one city not to be o'ercome ; 210 

And the twelve standards of the tribes imfurr<d^ 
Had bid defiance to the waiving world. 

* Vide Joshua, v. 14. 



EXPOSTULATION. 71 

B^Jt grace abua'd brings forth tho foulest deeds. 
As richest soil the most luxuriant weeds. 
Cur*d of the golden calves, their fathers' nn, 815 

They set up self, that idol god, within ; 
Viewed a delirerer with disdain and%ate, 
Who left them still a tributary state ; 
Seized fast his hand, held out to set tliem free 
From a worse yoke, and naiVd it to the tree : 220 

There was the consummation and the crown. 
The flow'r of Israel's infamy full blown ; 
Thence date their sad declension and their full, 
Their wbes not yet repeal'd, thence date thorn all. 

Thus fell the t>08t instructed in her day, 225 

And the most favoured land, look where we may. 
Philosophy, indeed, on Grecian, eyes 
Had pourM the day, and clear'd the Roman skies ; 
In other climes perhaps crcativo Art, 
With pow'r surpassing theirs, performed her part ; 230 
Might give more life to marble, or might ^ 
The glowing tablets with a juster skill ; 
Might shme in fable, and grace idle themes 
With all the embroid'ry of poetick dreams ; 
Twas theirs alone to dive into the plan, 235 

That Truth and Mercy had rcveal'd to man ; 
And, while the world beside, that plan unknown, 
Deified useless wood or senseless stone, 
They breath'd in faith their well-directed pray*rs. 
And thie true God, tho 'God of truth, was theirs. ^0 

Their glory fMcd, and their race dispersed, 
The last of nations now, though once tho first ; 
They warn and tcacli the proudest, would they learn 
Keep wisdom, or meet vengeance in your turn • 
If we escap'd not, if Heav'n spaj'd not us, 24.5 

Peel'd, scatter'd, and exterminated thus ! 
If Vice recoiv'd her retribution duo, 
When we were visited, what hope for you ? 
When God arises with an awful frown 
To punish lust, or pluck presumption down ; 250 



I 



7^ EXPOSTULATION. 

Wli«i gif^ pfirTert9(l| or not duly pm'dy 

Pleasure o*ervalued, and his grace despis'd, 

Pl«;roke the vengeance of his rijrhteous hanfl ; 

To pour down wrath upon a thankless land ; 

He will be found im||artially severe, 231 

Too just to wink, or speak the guilty cleat 

Oh Israeli of all nations most undone ! 
Thy diadem displaced, thy sceptre go^e : 
Thy temple, once thy glory, falFn and raz*d| 
And thou a worshipper e'en where thou m«y*st ; 2G0 • 
The services, once only without spot. 
Mere shadows now, their ancient pomp forgot } 
Tky Levites, once a consecrated host, -» 
No longer Levites, and their lineage lost, 
Arid th*yz thyself o*er ev*ry country sown, 26& 

With none en earth that Uiou canst call thine own ; 
Cry aloud, thou, that sittest in the dust, . 
Cty to the proud, the cruel, and unjust ; 
Knock at the gates of nations, rouse their fears ; 
Say wrath is coming, and the storm appearS|» 270- 

But raise the slirillest cry in British ears. 

"What ails thee, restless as the waves that roaj:^ 
And fling their ibam ag^^nst thy chalky s|ipro.^ . 
Mistress, at least while Frovide^^co sliall pleasf 
And trident-bearing queen of tlio wide sea^t-r 27^ 

Why, having kept good faith, and often sliowil. 
Friendship and truth to others, iind'st tliou.npiJ^.^ 
Thou that liast set the persecuted free, 
None interposes now to succour thee. 
Countries indebted to thy pow'r, that shine 280 . 

With light dcriv'd from thee, would sm?tlicr tliinc ; 
Thy very children watch for thy disgrace — 
A lawless brood, and curse thee to thy face. . 
Thy rulers load thy credit year by year. 
With sums Peruvian mines could never clear ; 285 
As if, like arches built with skilful hand, 
k The more 'twere press'd the firmer it would stand. 



EJTJ'OSTUr.ATIOM. 71 

The erj in all thy ships is ^iU the same. 
Speed us away to battle and tu fame. 
Thy mariners explore the wild expante, 890 

Impatient t» dMcry the fla^ of fVmce : 
Bht though fliey fight aff thine faavs ever fixq^ 
Return asham'd without the wreaths they eoti^ht 
Thy senate is a scene of chriljar, 
Chaos of contrarieties at war ; fM' 

Wheiie sharp and so6d,pfalegm«tidk'and fight^ 
Diseordant atoniB meet^ ferment, and fight*, 
Where Obstinacy takes his sturdy standi 
To disconeert what Foliey has pkumM ; 
Where Policy isl>asied all night long S(MI 

In setting right what Faction haa set wrong ; 
Where flails of oratory thresh the floor. 
That yields tbem chaff and dust, and nothing mom. 
Thy rack'd inhabitants repine, complaiiiy 
Tax'd till the brow of Labour sweats in faht ; 30t 

War lays a burden on the reeling state. 
And' peace does nothing to teHevn the weight » 
Successive loads snceeeding hvcSUn ihipoae, 
And sighing milHons prophesy theckee. 

Is adverse Previdenoe, <iHien pdnder'd iVeQi 31^ 

So dimly writ, or difiitult to speU, 
Tbau canit not read with readiness and €Rwe 
Providence adverse in eventii like these ? 
Know, then, that heavenly wisdom on this b^ 
Creates, gives biith to, guidos, consummatet all ; SUB ', 
That whUe labortooa and quick-thou^ted maa, 
S Aufis up the praise of wfauat he eeeras to plan, 
He first ceneeives, Uten perfectfi his design. 
As a mere instrument in hands divino : 
Blind to thiB working of that soqret pow>, 390. 

That balances the wings of ev'ry hour, 
niebusy trtfler dreams himself alooe, 
Frames many a purpose, and God works his own. 
States thrive or wither a9 moqn» wax and wanOi 
E*en as his will and his decrees ordain ; 225 

Vol. I. 7 



^1:3= 



1 



I 



74 EXPOSTULATfOlf. 

While honcnir, rirtae, P^Jty, bear iway, 

Tliey flourish ; and as these decline, deotjr x 

In jast resentment of his iirpir*d iaws, 

He pours contempt on them, and on their cause ; 

Strikes ttie rough thread of erronr right adi^n^aft 9d0 

The web of ev'ry scheme they hare at heait ; 

Bids rottenness invade and bring to dust 

The pillars of support, in which they trust| 

And do his errand of disgrace and ^aino 

On the chief strength and glory of the frame. 335 

None ever yet impeded what he wrought, 

None bars him out from his most secret thoaghel ; 

Darkness itself before his eye is light, 

And Heirs close mischief naked in Iiis sight. 

Stand now and judge thyself-^Ha^ thou ineiirr'd 
His anger, who can waste thee with a word ; 341 

Who poises and proportions sea and land. 
Weighing them in the hollow of his hand : 
And in whose, awftil sight idl nations seetn 
As grasshoppers, as dust) a drop, a dream ^ 3tf 

Hast thou, (a sacrilege his soul aMioni,) 
Claimed all the glory of thy prosperois wars ? 
Proud of thy fleets and armies, stol^ the gem 
Of his just praise, to lavish it on them ? 
Hast thou not leam'd, what thou art often toM, 959 
A truth still sacred, and believ'd of old. 
That no success depends on sffears and swdrdt ' 
Idlest, and that the battle is the Lord's? 
That courage is his creature, and dismay 
Tlie post that at his bidding speeds away, 356 

Ghastly in feature, and his stammering tongue 
With doleful Tumour and sad presage hung, 
To quell the valour of the stoutfest heart, 
And teach the combatant a woman's part ^ 
That he bids thousands fly where none pursue^ 360 
Saves as he will by many or by few; 
And claims for ever as his roy«d rigM, 
Th' event and sure decision of the fio-ht ? 



Hast thoa, tho* mckled at fiur Fno4oai'« lnMl» 
Ejrported Slav^cy to Um c<m<|uered East ? SOS 

Pnll'ddewB the tjsaacta India aerv'd wjyth draad» 
And raift'd tbyaelf, a gcaaief m their stead ? 
Bene (hkher arm'd and hungry » retum'd iiUl» 
Fed from the richest veins of the Mogul, 
A despot big wilh pow'r ohtain^d by wealtht 80 

And that obtam*d hy fa^^ine and by stealth i 
With Astatick vices stor'd tl^ niai«cl> 
Bat left their virtnes and thine ovn behind ? 
And having track'd thy soul^ bnonght bone the ibef 
To tempi the poor to sell hioMelf to thee f 3^ 

Hast thou by statute dioe'd from its design 
The Saviour's feast, his own bless*d bread and whrnp 
And made the symbc^ of atoning graee 
An olfiee-keyy a picklock to a place. 
That infidete may prove their title good 181 

By an oath dipp'd in sacramental blood f 
A blot, that ivillbestiU a Uot, in spite 
Of all that gr%ve apologisls may write ^ 
And though a bisliop toil to cleanse tiis staan^ 
He wipes and scours the feilver cup in vain. 98S 

And hast thou sworn on ev'ry riight pretence) 
Till perjuries are common as bad pence, 
While thousands, careless of the damning sin. 
Kiss the book's outside, who ne'er look'd within? 

Hast thou, when Heav'n has doth'd thee witkdb* 
gf«ee« ^ 900 

And long pro«ok*4, repaid thee to thy froe* 
(Fbr thou hast known eclipses^ and endur'd. 
Dimness and anguish,- aH thy beams 4ibscur'dy 
When sin has shed dishonour on thy brow ; 
And never of asabler hue than now,) 90 

Hast tnou vrith heart perverse and consoienoaeear^ 
- Gkwpising aU rebuke, still persever'd, 
And having chosen evil, soorn'd the voice 
That cried, Repent l^-snd gloried in thy ehoien ' 



* 76 BoommA'mm. 




Tli|F tedngvy wben cakmitjAi bil . 


400 


SuggesU til' •apedMafc <tf a yeMBijr iM, 




Whatkoeanl^? C3nirtthaii4imuatfaM4sJ4pJM^ j| 


In lighter diet at a kitot bow, 




To chana to ilee]^ the tbraii*tiM« cf.tlMkiUM^ 




And hide pa«tloUy fimn alkMetng JtlTM 2 . . 


J06 


The fast thu wiot dt&fmmtm, mwi .wsupmJM 








Is to ronoimee hyfttoosy ; to.di«w 




Thy life upon tlM9«ttaen<QflllwlMCi. . 


• i 




AID 


!Co Tanquish 4«<t» md mbas it«<y«fcoiiQ nttntb 




AH fastiBf •!», vhale^cor W the pietoaoei 








Hast thou withutliee sbi, ihA'm tM limtf 




Brought fire from Heav'tt,.!^ MZ-ab^i^ tmm^ 


4^ 


Whose horrid perpetrMien •tampe diagraoey 




fiaboonsare £rM£roa^«fmihananrao»? 




Thmk on the frottfvl and wtett^MterVl fpot 




That fed the flod»iBnd.J)enbofiMailhjL(^ 




Where BandiM seftmUstSl vtrnf^tml'd en eai^ 


420 


Btiming and aaoioh'd into p#Kpetiwl deanh ; 








Su^Tring the veiigeaiioe of eiienial fire ^ 




Then Nature ii^*d, soaDdaUs^d, defil'd. 






BehrtA^wilh jogr tlM lo^y sma d«&A*4» 




And praisd the wrath that laidJier faaauUes waste. 




Far be tbfr l^mi^imfit at^ ▼eiae of niiii% 




And farther stm the fiirm'd and iuM d^it(A, ' 




To thrust tba ckarga of deeds, thHt I detest. 


430 . 


Against an iattodentmBonscKMis breast; 




"^Km man that daoree tradhioe, hecanae ha ca* 




Widi aO^r «o himse^ is jiot a maa : 




An individual is a saered niaik 




Not to be piero'd in play, or in tfco dark. ; 


435 


But puUiok consote wpaiJn a.puUiek ib% 




Unless a seal for virtue }fuide the blow. 





#■"" A V'-'V 



EXfOSTULATiOff . 77 

Tho pri w tlj r Wu tkuih i ud, iof on t^ ikwiwn^ 
From JMBtti MlfMt*r«ai ttii ■nAirion elMur, 
Their inpe in Hes»*Byeirvllil3^«li«irMMn, 410 

Prompt to pernnde, expwilulrto, and wwr, 
l%eir wiiiim yUTB) omI ^m tiMm liMm M h w^ 
Tboir nwfirinim aitfn^d byfleal mad loWi 
As meek «• tfae msn JioMiy audi wHM* 
A« bold M, mAyqipa'g pr e i e n oe, P>ni» -40 

Should fljr the werid'i fft«tnnimH«g tCMKh, 
Koly and anpoHotvd ;-*«r6 thhie Meh f 
IUQepiaftwwlthStt%i|Nrielile«^ '' 
Hophni atfcMQuwa* maj deaoiibt Hm raat 

Where dmMm teaafamr kMM>da^ lik* Hiawi 499 
For ears and hearts thsl he «tti hefM to p l s a w f 
Look to Hm poor^-'the simple wmi the plain 
Wm Immv psfhaps thy sahrtary strain; 
Humility is gentie, apt tvlesroy 
Speak but the word, will listen and retam, 4K 

Alas, not so i-««he pee iait of tlie floek 
Are proud, alid eat tfaehr ftneans a. sock ; 
Denied tfant «aitfaly apnfenee tiny eheoaa, 
God's better g^ thsy scoff a> and r s ft wa. 
Tho rich, the preduee of a nobler stem, 461 

Are more intellie«nt at least-— «ry timn* 
Oh, Tain inquiry ! they, withaot remerssi « 
Ale alt ^s th a r gone a <is<rk>ns<wiiaa ; 
Where beck'ning Pleasnin leadntiieBi, wiklly itngrt 
Hare burst th« bands, and cast the yoke nurmy* 465 

Now borne upon the wbignof imtksnbliHie^ 
Review thy <hm criginai and pieinB. 
Tliis ishtnd, spot of unteckim'd rude earthy 
The cradle that rceei^U thee at thy bhrth^ 
Was rock*d by oHuiyn rough ISorwagian blasts 430 
And Danish howraigs.sear*d thee as they paasV; 
For thou wast bom amid the dm of arms, 
And su<;k'd a breast that panted with abrms. 
While yet thou wast a gnyr'hng puling chit, * 
Thy bones not fiuhion'd, and thy jeinUniatknit^ 49i 
7* 



1 

I 



.78 .i£ifr»arrauii!ioi«. 

The lUmvttteaght ihf «ki:|bbt0r» lOM* to Wir^ 
'Thonifb twiooa CaMur ooiM aat b«ii lin»«M»i 
His victory «w of thftt orimi tigbly 
When theMiVAaft* Sipmm tlM g^eoB^ai^ 
Thy Ungtrng^-^ tkmSi^ 
How much the oonmMy to the i 
Expressive, en t g e t iek, and refin'd^ 
Jc-sparkleewiththeyheleahihirirti 
He brougrbl thy hud ft Meewng wfaMi he ttuoft ; 
He found thee saivi^^ and he left the» tave ; 496 
Taa£rhttheetoclotlMthypiak*dndpaiBiedlud% • * 
And grace ihy figttra milh h wMJm'm^pMtkj • • • 
Ob sQW^d the eeeda border wheM he vmmk^ 
Improved thee fiur. beyond hie eiMi i>tiif,.». 
And, while he ndUlheohy the ewordaleMi. 4» 

Made thee at laal « warnenr i&e hie ovtt. 
Religion, if in heavenly trathe 8ttir*d» . . > 

Hheds only .to be eesA to be admiT'd*; 
Bat thine, as daj4( aa witoh^nea of the Bights 
Was formed to faawlimhearttamlriK>ok.tfae.ai|^;.4a5 
Thy DmidsatnMk the wril-haiWhirpethi^ hose -. 
With fingers dee{dy 4^ in homaft f(0M ; 
And whUe the i^othn skrwfy Ided to daatht 
Upon the rolling diorcb-rnnf €miMm4(fmg, bteath. 
• Who bronght the kmp, that fwilh awiOom^ heeasA 
Dispelled thy gloomy end bsek* away ihy4l«eiBli^ 6$\ 
Tniditien, now deere^ aaidwiani oiii9 
.BAbbler nf anei«Bt fiOilea, Mtw a denbi 
But still light feaeh'd thee ( and these godaof thini» 
Woden and Thor, each totterit^ in hia.shriniB, SOB 
Fell, broken and defiie*d at hia own doosii 
As Dagon in Philistia kmg be6le. 
Bftt Roma with sorceries and majpek.wand 
Soon riis'd a efamd^ that darkened av'ry kuiA; 
And thine was smether'd in the stench and &f • . 610 
Of Tiber^eonarshes and the papal bog/ 
Then prieat%with ball8> and brtefay-and shaven ceewn^ 
^^ &^9*^ ^^ *^ anrelenttng frowns^ 



r 



EXPOSTUtATION. W 

L^Kitt68 ino w6i6^sftM'%ft^pow*n IrtMII nfluy 
xhoii|^ iiMVBiirf ki pubCMUiotiy ilMC a iiMM wfifl y 519 
^nd to thl» hmir, <l6l)e«^it frMh inmhi^ 
l^nno twi^ nl'tiut xM veoorfe Are left Mhind.* 
Thy soldierly tho pApeli treU*MttiMg*ft T**^) 
Werd ^AlMra oMMtatn qiS'icuri, sita khow tlM ntecky 
And when he tud theM «(i HVe ibtHiA of llo6d, flSfl 
Wonld hunt « Saraeeti UttOugti ftr^ ttnd'flodd. 
LiETi8l>«jrBftf to %f]k an tffiij^ tM^, 
That proy'd a ntittt ofMim, k ihine tii^llbijto, 
x bey Jen vpm^ MUeii Dentoatn fejrahMidfj ndesy 
His worthleas ai«M»iitioii idlibe jyrixe. 0S5 

Thou wa8» «f» tdHMIiAii^ iH dayrof ytun, 
That ever dre^'d-a clildik o^ tugf^M m oar ; 
Thy monareha AMlitry, fiMrce^ unjust^ 
ThemaelveatiW ilWr<» dfBigp0try or liM, 
I#iMUIn*d thy comMwy ^iolrf in cHitreai 990 

Found thee a goodly tdmnge fhf Power t» pi^an. 
Tlgr chief8,<th« iMtla «f Mftnif a p«tiy ft^, ' 
IVoircAVi ancFifaHMYr^fttT^ttai^ ]AagtiM m^; 
Called thee^^ay fiotti f^abMMe employ, 
Domestiek hapf>M« aiid ti^ml jay, 0tt 

To waste thy Hfl» hi MA, 6r lay it down 
HI ^ausntti§ foftd fc *tero toctti jlft OTuWiro^prB* 
Thy pariiamentaarfdiia^ h^xfcfc^ SbMi* 
The aoT'reignty they tM)<fe doiitviiVI tb jiMk^ ; 
Whatever iraa ai4t*d,i»c^thAlft't^miftt, ^iHb 

• v>oinpiHNi wiHiy ma weie giw^iuuny cusiiiiasTi , 
Amb if some Spaftaii iovtf tf doUbt i^t'jffrftiM^y 
And blushing at th)y taiUMMMMl kitihb fM, 
I>ar*d to suppoM the vuftifeel hSd a 6HM^^ 
He was a traitor ^^log«MNfl1'«tee. ttl5 

O alave ! with powito^ttm dMat ftdt d^i^^stert, 
V«Me cannot 8toopMto«ratf%hyd^lteh; 
U shalaw the sides of splenetick' Disdithft, 
Thou solf-ontitled rvitsf ^thd Mlfin, 
To trace th«te t<J tlie diAe wKcn yflta f^tif iida, BW 

That clips thy c^ioref, hsd ttoMch charms ft^ ^&j 
• Which may be found at doctors' CommcHHi. 



I 

I 



89 SXPOSTUIhAXIO^ 

When oUmt nafJpM flew from eoait to Qm$^ i 

And Ukhi .hadfit oeiiUier floet iior fl<^ to hn^gj 

Kneel now, and lay thy forohead jm tb« dust} 
Blush if thou canat ; not petriiied» thou Qwat; ^Sft 
Act but an honest and a faithful part ; . . * 

Comiiare what thon thou wast with wh«t thM|4iii^ ' 
And God's disposing provideneo coiif«m*df, , . 
Obduracy Usolf must yield the rest- 
Then thou art bou«d to serve him, and to fio^ $60 
Hour after hour, thy gratitude and love. 

Has he not hid thee* and thy favoured land* 
ITor ages safe beneath his sheit'ring hand : 
Giv*n thee his blessing on the dearest propf, 
Bid nations leagued against thee stand 9iaU, ■ $6$ 

And charged Hostility and Hate to roac^ . 
Where else they would, but not upon ^- shore ? . 
His power secur'd thee when premimptuous S|iaia 
BaptizU her floet invipcible in vain ; 
Her gloomy monarch, doubtful and resigned &f% 

To ev'ry pang that racks aa anxious mind, 
Ask'd of the waves that broke upon Ins coast, 
What tidings ? and the snrgia replied — AH lost ! 
And when the Stuart, leaning on the Soot, 
Then too much fear'd and now too much forgat» KS 
Pierc*d to the very centre of the realm. 
And hop^d to seize his abdicated, hehn, . • 
Twas but to prove how qidckly with a irovm» 
He that had rais'd thee couMliave pluok*4 then dowm 
Peculiar is thegraco by thee posseas'dy ttl 

Thy foes implacable^ ithy land at rest ; 
Thy thunders travel over earth and «eae, 
And all at home is. pleasure, wealth, and eone. 
Tis thus, extending bis tenpestueas'nrvi. 
Thy Maker Alls the nations with alarai^ 481 

While his own Heav*n surveys Ute troubled i 
And feels no chan^^e, unshaken and serene. 
Freedom, in other lands M&rce knciwn to shtne. 
Pours out a flood of splendour upon thine ; 



J. 



siasi 



Thou hast «ifti%7ktiaihit'fi^ hi liM^myt, 5d0 

An b/rw Riimaii htUtin Rotto^n belrt dkys. 

True fiwioift i» wh^m Ho ivilBCribftls kfafll^, 

Tliat Scripfcn^, judtice, and good fw&to iSbo^Mrn ; 

Where only vice and in]tity Kre tted, 

And all fron-ihdre to shore ii fiveltettide. 9B6 

'Bilch freedom faM^aitd Wte<£Mf *s hodury Ml#^ 

Stood iren£Mhi{r«t1iieholihi«iBfe dfthf ptfcr^ri^ 

That wobmi^rmphon Aat failMbrftit IHldh, 

Like her the fabled. Fhobilv wo6VI m vahi ; 

He tbuiid thb isiMt <mif -:'i4u^>t»ter yvm, 090 

Th' unfaduig korel md the viir^ to6 !* 

Now thinks {IXfAtMtatt hftvto atitou^fiiyi^iMy 
If God himaelf be not beneath he)r care ; 
If businessy constant an the wheeltr of Ume, 
Can patide an* hoiir to i^ad fei seriocte ^rhytne ; 60^ 

ifUie new mail iitjr merciuUitB ntttr i^ecelTe, 
Or expectation of the noxt'giv^ IcaVe,) 
O think, if ohargMbfo wkh dee|> arrears 
For •such indulgenee gilding oK thy years, 
How much, though long negleoted, shmm^ yet, 610 
The beams of heavenly truth hUVe swellM the debt. 
When persecuting zeal made royal S]H)ft 
Witli tortur'd innocence in Mary's court, 
And Bonner, blitheas shei^ierd at a ivake, 
Enjoyed the show, and ditno*d sbdot thb litake ; 615 
Tte sacred be<dE, R* rOaa imderiCood, 
Received tlw seal ot martyrdom in Mood. 
Thoee holy men, so Ml oftrtH^ and grieO) 
Seem to reflection of a diflbrsnt race ; 
Meek, inadest, veaend>le, iiHse, i^nMr^ 020 

la such a oa«N they co«dd not diBure to iki» ; 
They coiUd not^pfin^aio earth >iritii Mch a plMb, 
Or spare a life toeahort to temhihe ilUnl. 



• Attttding to ^ die crant of Magna Cbarta, which was S9* 
torted from King John by (he barons at Runnymede, ncai 
Windsor. 



m EXPOSTULATION. 

From them to thee coriTey'd along the tide. 

Their etreaming hearts pour'd freely, when they died s 

Those truths, which neither use nor years Impair, G26 

Invite thee, woo thee, to the bliss they share. 

What dotage will not vanity maintain ? 

What web too .weak to catch a nuKlem brain ? 

The molee fud bats in full assembly find €30 

On special search, the keen-ey'd eagle blind. 

And did they dream, and art thou wiser bow ? 

Prove it — if better, I submit and bow. 

Wisdom and goodness are twin-bom, one heait 

Must hold both sisters, neveyr seen apart. 63C 

So then— «s darkness overspread the deepi 

Ere Nature rose from her eternal sleep, 

And this delightAil earth, and that fair sky. 

Leaped out of nothing, called by the Most High ; 

By such a change thy darkness is made light, 640 

Thy chaos order, and thy weakness might ; 

And He whose pow'r mere nullity obeys, 

Who found thee nothing, form'd thee for his praisa. 

To praise him is to serve him, and fuUU, 

Doing and suflTring, his unquestioned will } C45 

*Tis to believe what n^en inspired of old, 

Faithful, and faitlifully informed, unfold ; 

Candid and just, with no fake aim in view, 

To take for truth what cannot but be true ; 

To loam in God's own school the Christian part, &$ 

And bind the task assigned thee to thine heart : - 

Happy tlie man there seeking and there found, 

Happy the nation where such men -abound. 

How shall a v«rse unpress tkoe ? by what nasM 
Shall I adjure thee not to court thy diam* ? * €SS 
By theirs, whose bright example unimpeach*d, 
Directs thee to that eminence they reach'd, ^ 

Heroes and worthies of days past, thy sires ? 
Or his, who touch'd their hearts with hallow'd finp ? 
Their names, alas ! in vain reproach an age, C60 

Whom all the vanities they scom'd engage ; 



r 



EXPOSTULATION. 89 

And His, that seraph'tf trembled at, is huii|^ 
Disgracefully on ev^ry trifler's tongue, 
Or serves the champion in forensick war 
To flourish and parade with at the bar. 065 

Pleasure herself perhaps suggests a plea, 
If interest move thee, to persuade e*en thee ; 
By ev*ry charm, that smiles upon hor face, 
By joys possessed, and joys still held in chase^ 
If dear s6ciety be worth a thought, GfO 

And if the feast of freedom clby thee not. 
Reflect that Vhese, and all that seem thine own, 
Held by the tenure of his will alone, 
Like angels in the service of their Lord, 
Remain with thee, or leave thee at his word , C75 

That gratitude and temperance in our use 
Of what he. gives, unsparing, and profuse 
Secure the favour, and enhance the joy. 
That thankless waste &nd wild abuse destroy. 
But, above all, reflect, how cheap soc*er 600 

Thoio rights that millions envy thee appear, 
And though resolv'd to risk thorn, and swim down 
The tide of pleasure, heedless of his frown, 
That blessings truly sacred, and when giv*n, 
Mark*d with the signature and stamp of Hear'n, 685 
The word of prophecy, those tmths divine, 
Which make that Heav'n, if thou desire it, thine. 
Awful alterfMtive ! believ*d, belor'd, 
(Tliy glory, and thy shame if unimproved,) 
Are never long vonchsafd, if pulh*d aside COO 

With cold disgust, or philosophick pride ; 
And that judicially withdrawn, disgrace, 
E.-rour, and darkness, occupy their place. 
A world is np in artns, and thou, a spot 
Not quickly found if negligently sought, 695 

Thy soul as ample as thy bounds are small, 
Endvr'tt the brunt, end dar'st defy them aQ 
And wilt thou join to this bold enterprise, 
A bolder still, a contest with the skies > 



84 EXPOaTULATXOW. 

Rememberi if He gua^ tliee and secure, 700 

Whoe'er assailti thee, thy guccess is sure ; 
But if He leave thee, tiiongh the skill and powV 
Of nations sworn to spoil thee and devour, 
Were all collected in thy single arm, 
And thou CQold'tft hiugh away the fear of hann^ 705 
That strength would fail, oppos'd against the push 
And feeble onset of a pigmy rush. 
Say not, (and if the thought of such defence 
Should spring within thy bosom, drive it theoce^) 
What nation amongst all my foes is free 710 

From crimes as base as any charged on in^? 
Their measure fill'd, they too shall pay the debt, 
Which God, though long forborne, will not forget. 
But know tliat wrath divine, when most severe^ 
Makes justice still the guide of his career, "3^ 

And will not punish, in one mingled crowd, ' 
Them without light, iMiid thee without a cloud. 
Muse, hang this Ikarp upon yon aged beech, 
Still murm'ring with the solemn truths I teapt\ ^,. 
And while at intervals a cold blast sings 720 

Through the dry leaves and pants upon the strings. 
My soul shall sigh in secret, and lament 
A nation scourg'd, yet tardy to repent. 
I know the warning song is sung in vain ; 
That few will hear, and fewer heed the sti^aii^ j " 725 
But if a sweeter voice, and one design 'd 
A blessing to ray country and mankind^ 
li^sdaim the wand 'ring thousands, and bring homo 
A flock so scattered and so wont to roam, 
Then place it once again between my knees , 730 

The soimd of truth will tJien be sure to pleasp : 
And truth alone, where'er my life be cast. 
In scenes of plenty, or the pining waste, 
Shall be my chosen theme^ my glory to the lasu 



HOPE. 



9 Iter, et sacra ostea pandas. 

VlKG. Ik. «. 

ASK what 18 human liffr-^he sage ropUea^ 
With disappointmont low*ri9iff in hb ttyea, 
A painihl paMag^ o*er a f — tJoM flood ; 
A vain purmiit of fbi^tiye &l8e giwd ; 
A scene of fancied bliss aixl heart-fiilt AarOi ft 

Closing at la«t in darkness tod despair. 
The poor, inured to drudg'ry and distress, 
Aet without aim, think little, and feel lose, 
And no where, hut Ui feign'd Arcadian eeenes, 
Taste happiness, or know what pleasure means* ]# 
Ricbee «re passed away from hand to faaad| 
As fbriune, viee, or fbily may command ; 
As in a dance, the pair that take the lead 
Turn downward, and the lowest pair sncceed, 
So shifting and so various is the plan, IS 

By which Hoav'n rules the miz'd afiairs of man ; 
Vicissitude wheels round this motley crowd, 
Tlio rich grow poor^ the poor become purse-proud > 
Business is labour, and man's weakness such, 
Pleasure is labour .too, and tiretf as much. 90 

The very sense of it foregoes its use, 
Qy repetition pall'd, by age obtuse. 
i*outh lost in dissipation, we deplore, 
Through life's sad remnant; what no sighs restore : 

Vot. I. ' 8 



— '""— — jsrsc 



1 1 



86 HOPE. 

Our yean a fruitless race without a prize, 85 

Too many, yet too few to make us wise. 

Dandling his cane about, and taking'snuff, 
Lothario cries, What philosnphick stuff— 
O querulous and weak ! — ^whoso useless brain 
Once thought of nothing, and now thinks in vain; 90 
Whose eye reverted weeps o'er aO the past, 
Whose prospect shows tIi«B a dishoart'ning waste ; 
W<^d age in thee resign his wintry reign. 
And youth invigorate that frame again. 
Renewed desire would grace with other speech 3S 

Joys always priz'd, when plac*d within our reacli. 

For, lift thy palsied head, shake off the gloom 
That overhangs the borders of thy tomb, 
See Nature gay as when she first began. 
With smiles alluring her admirer man ; 40 

She spreads the morning over eastern hills, 
Earth glitters with the drops the night distils ; 
The sun, obedient at her cdl, appears. 
To fling his glories o*er the robe she wears ; 
Banks cloth'd with flow*rs, groves fill'd with sprightly 
sounds, ' 45 

The yellow tilth, green meads, rocks, rising groundfli 
Streams edg'd with osiers, fatfhing ev*ry field. 
Where'er tliey flow, now seen, and now concealed ; 
From the blue rim, where skies and mountains meet,, 
Down to the very turf beneath thy feet, 50 

Ten thousand charms, that only fools despise. 
Or Pride can look at with indifferent eyes. 
All speak one language, iJl with one sweet voico 
Cry to her universal realm. Rejoice ! 
Man feels the spur of passions and desires ; 55 

And she gives largely more than he requires ; 
Not that his hours devoted all to Care, 
Hollow-ey'd Abstinence, and lean Despair, 
The wretch may pine, while to his smell, taste, dght, 
She holds a paradise of lich delight ; 60 



HOPB. 87 

Bat grently to rebuke his awkward fear. 

To prove that what she gives, she gives sincertt. 

To banish hesitation, and proclaim 

His happiness, her dear, her only aiok. > 

'TIS grave philosophy's absUrdest dream, 65 

That Heav'n's intentions are not what they seem 

Thai only shadows are dispensed bebwy 

And earth has no reality but yo. 

Thus things terrestrial wear a different hue. 
As youth or age persuades ; and neither true. 70 

So Flora's wreath through colour'd crystal soeOy 
Tlie rose or lily appears blue or green. 
But still th' imputed tints are those alone 
The -medium represents, and not their own* 

To rise at noon, nt slipshod and undress^ 75- 

To read the news or fiddle as seems best. 
Till half the world comes rattling at his door. 
To fill the dull vacuity till four ; 
And, Just when ev'ning turns the blue vault gray^ 
To spend two hours in dressing for the day : 80 

To make the Sun a bauble without use, 
Save for tlie fruits his heav'nly beams produce t 
Quito to forget, or deem it worth no tliought. 
Who bids him'shine, or if he shine or not ; 
Through mere necessity to close his eyes 85 

Just when the larks and when the shepherds rise • 
l^such a life, so tediously the mmOf 
So void of all utility or aiin, 
That poor Jonqnil, with almost ev'ry breath, 
Sighs for his exit, vulgarly call'd death : 90 

For he, with all his follies, has a mind 
Net yeVso blank, or fashionably bKnd, 
But now and then perhaps a feeblo ray * 
Of distant wisdom shoots across his way ; 
By which he reads, that life without a plan, 05 

As useless as the moment it began, 
^rves merely as a soil for discontent 
To thrive in ; an incimibrance ere half spent. 



^^3S?PSLiJ5: 



8b' HOPE. 

O weariness heyrnid what asses feel, 

That tread the circuit ef the cistern wfieel j MW 

A dull rotation, nerer at a stay, 

Yesterday's face twin ima^ of to-day ; 

While conversallion, an exhausted stock, 

Grows drowsy as f he-clicking' of a dock. 

No need he crieS; of ^avity stufl''^ otil IM 

With academick dimity devout, 

To read wise lectures, vanity the text ; 

Proclaim the remedy, ye learned, next ; 

For truth telf^evklent, with pomp imprewM , 

Is vanity surpassuig nil the rest. IK^ 

That remedy, not hid in deeps preibnnd. 
Yet seldom sought where only to befhnnd, 
While paanon turns nmie ftf»n its doe scope 
Th* inquirer^s aim, tiiat remedy is hope. 
Life is his gift, fhnn whom wfaate'er life medS| 115 
With ev'ry good and perfect gift proceeds j 
Bestowed en man, like all that we partake. 
Royally, freely, for his bounty's sake ; 
Transient indeed, as is the fleeting hour, 
And yet the seed of an immortal flow'r ; 120 

Designed in honour of his endtcss love. 
To fill with fragance his abode above ; 
No trifle, howsoever short it seem. 
And howsoever liiiadowy, no dream ; 
Its value what no thought can ascertain, 135 

Nor all an angel's eloquence explain. 
Men deal with life as children with their play, 
Who first misuse, then cast their toys away ; 
Live to no sober purpose, and contend 
That their Creator had no serious end. 130 

When God aid man stand opposite in view, 
Man's disappointment must of course ensue. 
Tlie just Creator condescends to write, 
In beams of inextinguishable light. 
His names of wisdom, goodness, pow'r, and love, 135 
On all that blooms below, or shines above ; 



^s^ir,-:^ 



HOPE. m 

To catch the wand'rinf notice of man^tind, - 
And teach tha world, if not perveraely Llind, 
His gracious attributes, and prove the share 
Hia offspring hold in hia paternal care. 140 

If, led from earthly thin^ to things divine, 
His creature thwart not liis august design, 
'nien praise is heard instead of reas'nivg prido, 
And captious cavil and complaint subside.^ 
Nature employ'd in her allotted place, 1 45 

Is handmaid to ihe purposes of Grace ; 
By good vouchsaTd makes known superioor good| 
And bliss not seen by blessings understood : 
That bliss, revealU in Scripture, with a glow 
Bright as the covenant- ensuring bow, 150 

Fires all his feelings with a noble scorn 
Of sensual evil, and thus hope is bom. 
Hope sets the stamp of vanity on all 
That men have deem'd substantial since the fidl ; 
Yet has the wondrous virtue to educe 155 

From emptiness itself a real use ; 
And labile she takes, as at a fiUher*« hand, 
'What health and sober appetite demand. 
From, fitding good derives, with chemick art. 
That lasting happiness, a thankful heart. I(i0 

Hope with upHfied foot, set free from earth. 
Pants fi>r the place of her ethereal birth, 
On steady wings sails thiou^ the immense abyss, 
Plucks amaranthine joys from bowers of bliss. 
And crowns the soul, while yet a mourner here 1G5 
With wreaths like those triumphant spirits wear. 
Hope, as an anchor firm and sure, holds fast 
The Christian vessel, and defies the blast. 
Hope ! nothing ol^ can nourish and secure 
His ne\v-born virtues, and preserve him pure. 170 

Hope ! let the wretch, onte conscious of the joy, 
Whtim now despairing agonies destroy, 
Spoak, for he can, and none so well as he, 
Wiiat treaaiires centra, what delights in thee 
8* ■ 



SflEE 



Had he tho gems, th^ 8pl«», tsad tke hnd, 175 

That boasts the treasure, ^ at hts oemnmuMl ; 

The fragrant grove) th' iiiestimaliie miiie^ 

Were li^ht, ^hen iv^igliM mgaaast ^e wnU* of ihiiuk 

Though clasp*d and cimdled in hit antse's arms,. 
He shines with all a eh«n^*B ar^Ms cbssmsi. 180 

Man is the genuhie offb{>ring oftimAt, 
Stubborn and stttrd^ as ti wM ass' eoH ; 
His passions, like thd wot'ry atorea that skmp 
Beneath the smiling svrfaeeof tte dee^ 
Wait bat the larikes of & wintry storNi, 18& 

To frown, and roar, and iAak% hb feeble fcm. 
Fram infanby thfoOgh cliil dl i « i tf s gidc^ naie 
Ptt>ward at school, and fredbl m hkrpteja, 
The puny tyrant bums to imbjogato 
The free republick of the nHitj^gig state. 190 

If one, his equal in athletiek frame, 
Or, more prorokin^ still, of A«M«r OMaey 
Oare step across Ms ai'biCfafy viewiH) 
An Iliad, only not in vetm, enities ; 
The little Greeks 1o<4l trenddlng at ik» aeale% 106 
Till the best toRgif«> or heavieat haod pferaili. 

Now see him launchM into the world at large ; 
If priest, supinely drt>tiing o'er hit efaargay 
Their fleece his pifiow, and hi« wee^ drawl> 
Though short, too long, tlw plica he paya &t alL SOO 
If lawjrer, lottd whatever eattse he pkad. 
But proudest of the worst, if tiiat miceeed. 
Pethaps a grave physician, gath*ring fists, 
Punctually paid for lengthening out disease; 
No Cottorij whose humanity sheds rays 905 

That make superiour e^ll his second praise. 
If arms engage liim, he devotes to sport 
His date of life, so likely to be short ; 
A soldier may be any thing, if brave, 
So may a tradesman, if not quitt> a knave. 310 

Such stuiT the world is made of: and mankind 
To passion, int'r?st, pleasure, whhn, resigned. 



HOPE. 91 

(listM oiii as if esbk #«re his Mrs fraf^ 
Forgiveness, and ikm pn^riiefe of he^ 
But Conscience, in seme mtAiI, silent boor, 91$. 

Wlien ca pt t f a iliig teste httve l«»t tlieff pow'r; 
Perhaps "wlien sickness, or some fiiailwldman, 
Heminds him ofTdifftoii, listed theme ! 
Starts from the d<»#n> Oft- wl^eli she latelj ski^ 
And tells of laws despis*d, «t least net k»pt : 830 

Shows with a |Kiiiiting &ifer, bcit neaeissy 
A pale procession oCpaet ihilU joy*, 
A^ witne sses of UesHnge ibtify scorn 'd^ 
And life abos'd, and not to be siibdm'd. 
Mark these, she says ; Hmss munittoa'd firom afiir« 299 
Begin their marcfti to meet tiiee at the bar ; 
There find a judge inexorahfy j«it, 
And p«rish there, as afl preswmptiea most. 

Pea^ foe to those, (suek peaee as earth cam ^y,) 
Who live in pleasure, dead e*ea while tliey liire ; 239 
Bom, capable, indeed, <»f hea^*iidy truth ; 
But down to latest age, HFem eor^st yoath, 
Their mind a wiMemess fhfoogh want ef ease. 
The plough of wisdom ncrver ettt^taig there. 
Peace, (if insensibility mi^daim 835 

A right to the meeik honours of htfr naflM^ 
To men of pedigree, ^letriioble raee, 
Emulous always ofthe nearet^ plaee 
To any throne, except the throne of <xYace. 
Let cottagers and unenlightened swaiAs 240 

Rovere the laws they dream*d that Heav*!! ofdaim; 
Resort on Sundafjrs to the house of plray^. 
And ask, and fancy th^ find 'blessings there. 
Themselves, perhaps, nHien weary they retreat 
T* enjoy cool nature in a country seat, 245 

T' exchange the centre of a thousand trades, 
Tot clumps, and lawns, and temples, and oascadef| 
May now and then their velvet cushions take , 
^nd seem to pi^i for good example sake ; 



^ \ 



08 HOPS. 

Jadging, m charity, no doubt, tlM town 250 

Pious enough, and having need of none. 
Kind souls ! to teacA their tenantry to prixe 
What they themselTes, without renorse dospiitt : 
Nor hope faave they, nor fear of aught to oobm^ 
As well for them had prophecy be«a dumb ; 355 

They could have heM the eoaduct they pursue. 
Had Paid of Tarsus liv'd and died a Jew ; 
And truth, proposal to reas'ners wise aa they^ 
Is a pearl cast— com|detely oast away. 
They die— Death lends them, pleaa'd, and as in 

sport, ^ aco 

AU the grim honours of his ghastly court* 
Far other paiirtings grace the chamber now, 
Where late we saw 'the mimick landscape glow s 
The busy heralds rang the sable scene 
With mournful seutehecms, and dim lamps between i 
Proclaim their titles to the crowd around, 2Ck 

But they that wore them move not at the sound ; 
The coronet ^ao*d higUy at their head, 
, Adds nothing now to the degraded dead ; 
And e*en the star, that glitters on the bieri 970 

Can only say — Nobility lies here. 
Peace to all suoh-~-'twero pity to ofi&nd, 
By useless censure, whom we cannot mend| 
Life without hope can close but in despair, 
Twaa there we found thran, and must leave them 
there. 275 

As when two pilgrims in a forest stray» 
Both may be lost, yet each in his own way.; 
So fares it with the multitudes beguil'd 
In vain Opinion's waste and dang'rous wild ; >^ 

Ten thousand rove the brakes and thorns am.ong, 280 
Some eastward, and some westward, and all wrong. 
But here, alas ! the fatal difTrence lies, 
Each man's belief is right in his own eyes ; 
And he that blames what they have blindly chose, 
Incurs resentment for the love he shows. 5285 



HOPE. 9a 

S&y, botuurt, wkhhi whoM provinc* fiUl 
Tho cedar and th^ii y w f on tlia wall, 
Of all that deck the laaea, tlie ftalda^ the Ww'xa , 
What parU the kindMd tnboa afweeda and fluw'ra? 
Sweet scant, or iareiy ferm, or bath cMobia'd^ 290 
Diatinguiah er'ff ouHivatad kind; 
Tho want of bath deaaiaa a. maimer btotd, 
And Chloe from Imp ftftand piaka the wmtd. 
Thus hopes (^ev*ry eort, wh al a ir of aaot 
Eateom them, sow them, rear thoai, and pae t a c t 295 
If wilds in nature, end not d«il^ faondf 
Qothsemano ! in thy dear haUow'd grovml, 
That cannot bear tho Maze of Sonpturo U|^ 
Nor cheer the spirit, not isafroak tlio aiglil^ 
Nor animate tho omi} to CSirialian deoda, 9DS 

(Oh cost them firmntheo *) are weeds, arranl weidfc 

fithelrod*s hofQse, the centre of aix wej% 
Diverging each from eaok, like oqoa^ ntys) 
Himscslf as bonntifUI as Api^ ratna, 
Lord paramount of the aorro au d i ng- piabiay M^ 

Would give relief of bed and board to nonoi 
But quests that sought it in th* appointed dna / 
And they might enter al hia open door^ 
E'en till his spactons hall would hold no bmtow 
He sent a servant ibrth, by ev'ry road, ^0 

To sound hia horn, and publish it ai>ro8d. 
Thtlt all might mark— knighl, menial, high, and Ivir, 
An ordinance it concem'd thern much to know. 
If after all some headstrong hardy krot 
Would disobey, though sure to be shtit ont, S15 

Could ho with reason murmur at his case, 
Himself sole author of his own diir^race ? 
No ! the decree was just and witliout flaw; 
And ho that made, had right to make tho hrw ; 
His Bov'reign power, and pleasure unreatmin'd, 8W 
The wrong was his who wrongfully complain'd. 

Tot half mankind maintadns a churlish strifo 
With Hun, tho Donor of eternal hfe, 



M. IIOPK. 

Because the deed, by which hk love etm&noM 

The largess h? bestows, prescribes the tennt. 325 

Compliance with his will your lot ensures, , 

Accept it only, and tlie boon is yours* 

And sure it is as kind to smile and give, 

As with a frown to say. Do this, and live. 

Jx>ve is not pedler*8 tmmp'ry, bought and iold • 330.* 

He will give freely, or he wUl withhold » / 

His soul abhors a mercenary thought, 

And him as deeply who abhors it not ; 

He stipulates, indeed, but merely this, 

That man will freely take an unbought bli8% 33S 

Will trust him for a faithful gen'rous partt 

Nor set a price upon a willing heart. 

Of all the wL/s that seem to pixmiise fair. 

To |Haoe you where his saints his presence share. 

This only can ; for this plain cause, ej^ross'd 340 

In terms as plain— -Himself has shut the rosL 

But oh the strife, the bickering, and debate, 

The tidings of unpurchased Heav'n create ! 

The flirted fan, the bridle, and the toss, 

All speakers, yet all language at a loss. 345 

From stucco'd walls smart arguments rebound ; 

And beaux, adepts in ev>y tiling profound, 

Via of disdain, or whistle off the suund. 

Such is the clamour of rooks, d^ws, and kites, 

Th* explosion ofthe levelled tube excites, 350 

Where mouldering abbey walls o'erhang tlie glado. 

And oaks coeval spread a mournful shade, 

The screaming nations, hov'ring in mid air. 

Loudly resent the stranger's freedom there, 

And seem to warn him never to repeat . 355 

His bold intrusion on their dork retreat. 

Adieu, Vinosa cries, .ere yet he sips 
T^o purple bumper trembling at his lips-^ 
Adieu to all morality ! if Grace 
Make works a vain ingredient in the case. 360 



HOPfi. 90 

The Cliristian hope is — Waiter, draw tbeeorit— 

It I mistake not^-^Btockhetul ! with a ibrk ! 

Without fgood works, whatever some maj boost, 

Mere (i>l\y and delosion-^-Sir, your toast. 

My firm persuasion is, at least sometimes, 96& 

That Heav*n will weigh man's Tirtnes and his erfurt s 

With nice attention, in a righteous scale, 

And save or daam as these or those prevatL 

I plant my foot upon thb ground of trust. 

And silence ev'ry fear with— God f« jutft. 37% 

But if, perchance, on some dull, driixling day, 

A thought mtmde, that sajrs, or seems to say, 

If thus th* important cause is to be tried, 

Suppose the beam should dip on the wrong iride ; 

I soon recover fhnn those needless frights, 37^ 

And God is merciful — sets all to rights. 

Thbs between justice, as my prime support. 

And mercy, fled to *• the last resort, 

I glide and steal along with Httar'tt hi riew, 

And — ^pardon me, the bottle staads wHh yon. 380 

I never will believe, the eblenel cries. 
The sanguinary schemes that some devise. 
Who make the good Creator on their plan, 
A being of less equity than man. 
If appetite, <nr what drrxnes call Inst,' 385 

Which men comply with, e'en because they must, 
Be* puniah*d with perdition, who is pure ? 
Then theirs, no doubt, as well as mine, is stiro. 
If sentence of eternal pain belong 
To ev*ry sudden slip and transient wrong, H^O 

Then* Heaven enjoins the fiiUible and frail 
A hopeless task, and damns them if they fkil. 
My creed, (wliatever some creed-makers mean 
By Athanasian nonsense, or Nicene,) 
My creed is, he is safb, that does his best, 38S 

And death's a doom sufficient for the rest. 

Right, sajip an ensign ; and ^ aught I M« 
four faith and ftiine substantially agree ; 



m HOFE. 

Tbo b«it of arVy mMt^s pcrfijmimiiee hen 

Is to ^i^haiwe ik9 datiM of lik i|»li«r8. 400 

A hiwytr*% 4e«lihifs flhooM be jtMt and fSuTi « 

Honettj sliines with fraol •dhmatagre tbero. 

FMting and pi^*r tit well vfioii a prieft, 

A 4eoeiii caution aad reaenw at loasl. 

A soldier's best Is oonraf^v in the field, 40$ 

With nothin|r here that wants to be oeaoial*d. 

Mnrdj d jportnent, gaUant, easy, gaj ; 

A hand as lib'ral as the li^rht of day. 

The soldier thus endow'd who never shrii^ 

Nor closets up his thoo^ts, whsle'er he thinks, 410 

Who scorns to do an injury by stealth. 

Must go to HeaT'n--and 1 ntuit drink his health. 

Sir Smug, he cries, (^ lowest at the 'board, 

Just made fifth chaplain of his patron lord. 

His shoulders witnessittf by many a shrug 41S 

How much his feelings suAn^'dyint Sir 8mug,) 

Tour office is to winnow fklse from true ; 

Ceme, Prophet, drink, and teR us. What think you ? 

Sighin«r and smiKng as he takes his glass, 
Which they that woo pvefbrtnent rarely pass, 480 

Fallible man, the ehutch-bred youth replies, 
Is still found fiillible, howerer wise ; 
And diflTring judgments smrre but to declare. 
That truth lies somewhere, if we knew but where. 
Of all it ever was my lot to read, 435 

Of criticks now alive, or long since dead, 
The book of all the world that charm'd me moat 
Was— well-a-day — the title page was lost ; 
The writer well remarks, a heart that knowe 
To take with g^titude what Heav*n bestows, 430 
With pmdeace always ready at our call. 
To guide our use of it, is all in all; 
Doubtless it is— To which, of my own store, 
I superadd a few essentials more ; 
But these, excuse the liberty I take, ^. 435 

I wave just new, fer conveieation's sake.— 



p?* 



Bora. m 

Bpoke lUra «» Cffacler tW aU •xoImib, 

^nd add Right Reverend toSuM^^'t boMiir'd MdMw 

And yet our lot is giv*a w in a Uum1| 
Wliere bo^ ntU are never el a etand ; 440 

Where Science points ^r telesbopiek ejf., 
Familiar with tbe .wonders of Uie sky ', 
Where bold inquiry, diving o'oiof aghtf 
Brings many a proekMis pearl of iniUi to tigjil > 
Where naught eludes the persevering quost^ 445 

That fasjiion, taste, or luxury, suggest. 

But above aJJ^ in her own light arcay'dv 
See Mercy's gniad apocalypse display'd * 
The sacred book no longer suffers wrong, 
Bound in the fetters of an unknown tongue ; 490 

But speaks with plainness, art could never msiid, 
What simplest minds can seoncsi comprelteML 
God gives the word, the preachers tluimg afoiMMi, 
Live from Jiis lips, and spread the glorious fouwt ; 
That sound bespeaks Salvation on her wfiy^ 4d5 

The trumpet of a life-restoring day ^ 
*Tis heard where England's eastern glory Mhineii 
And in the gulfs of ber Comubian mmes. 
And still it spreads. See Germany send fertli . 
Her sons* to pour it on the farthest north : 460 

Fir'd with a zeal peculiar, they defy 
The rage and rigour of a polar sky. 
And plant successfully sweet Sharon's X£m 
On icy plains, and in eternal snows. 

O blcss'd within th* enclosure of your rocks, 466 
Nor herds have ye to boast, nor bleating flocks ; 
No fertilizing streams your fields divide, 
That show reversed the villas on their side ; 
No groves have ye ; no cheerful sound of bird, 
Or voice of turtle in your land is heard ; 470 

Nor grateful eglantine regales the smell 
Of those that walk at ev'ning where ye dwoU ) 

* The Moravian 9fis»onaries in GreenlMd. See Kcanli. 
Vol. I. 9 



m Hora. 

But winter, arin*4l wkh terroim h&n nnkiiowiH 

Siu abeolute on bis nnshaken throne ; 

Pilft^ up his storee amidst the frozen watte, 478 

And bids the mountains lie haii built stand fiwt : 

Beckons the l«^ieii» of his storms away 

From happier scenes, to make your land a prey } 

Proclaims the soil a conquest he has won. 

And scorns to share it with the distant Sun. ' 480 

— Yet truth is yours, remote, unenvied isle ! 

And Peace, the genuine ofispring of her smile ; 

The pride of lettered Ignorance that binds 

In chains of errour our aecomplish'd mmds. 

That decks with all the splendour <tf the true, 485 

A false religion is unkIlp^▼n to you. 

Nature, indeed, vouchsafes for our delight 

The sweet vicissitudes of day and night : 

Soft airs and genial moisture feed and cheer 

Field, firuit, and flow'r, and er'ry creature here ; 400 

But brighter beanks than his who fires the skies, 

Hare ris'n at length on yoat admiring eyes. 

That shoot into your darkept eaves tlie day. 

From which our nicer opticks turn away. 

Here- nee the encouragement Grace gives to vice, 
The dire effect of mercy without price ! 496 

What wern they ? what some fools are made by art, 
They were by nature, atheists head and heart. 
The (rross idolatry Mind heathens teach, 
Was too refin'd for them, beyond their reach. COO 

Not e'en the glorious Sun, though men revere 
The monarch most, that seldom will appear. 
And tho' his beams, that quicken where they shine, 
May churn some right to be esteem 'd divine, 
Not e'en the Sun, desirable as rare, 503 

Could bend one knee, engage one votary there ; 
They were, what base Credulity believes 
True Christians are, dissemblers, drunkards, thieves : 
The fuU-gorg'd savage, at his nauseous feast 
Spmt lialf the darkness, and snor*d out the rest, 510 



HOPE. •• 

Wm one, wham JotBee, <m ma equtl pka 
Denouncing death upon ^m mm of raan. 
Might almost larro indnlg'd with an eeeape, 
Chargeable oaky with a human ehape. 

What are they now ?— Morality may epav* 51S 

Her grave ooo^em, her kind eoepieiona thef» : 
The wretch, who ooee eang wikHy, dane'd, and ki^d. 
And snclL^d in diDey ttadneee with his draught. 
Has wept a silent flood, reren'd his ways. 
Is sober, medt, benevolent, and prays, (SOO 

Feeds sparingly, commonieates his sCoie, 
Abhors the en£t he boasted of befinre. 
And he that stole has leam'd to steal no more. 
Well spake the pro^et— Let the desert sing, 
Where sprang the thorn, the spiry fir shall spring, fSK 
And where unsightly ttid rank Uidsties greW| ' 
Shall grow the myrtle and luxuriant yew. 

60 now, and with important tone demand 
On what foundation virtue is to stand, 
If self-exalting claims be turned adrif^ 635 

And grace be grace indeed, and life a gift ; 
The poor reclaimed inhabitant, his eyes 
Glistening at once with pity and surprise, 
Amaz'd that shadows should obscure the nght 
Of one, whose birth was in a land of light, 63S 

Shall answer, Hope, sweet Hope, has set me free, 
And made all pleasures else mere dross to me* 

These amidst scenes as waste as if denied 
T)ie common oaie tliat waits on all beside, 
Wild as if Naturo there, void of all good, MO 

Play*d only gambols in a frantick mood 
(Yot charge not heavenly skill with havmg pknn d 
A play thing world, unworthy of bis hand ;) 
Can see his love, though beeret evil lurks 
In all we touch, stamped plainly on his works } 64fi 
Deem life a blessing with its nom'rous woes, 
Nor spum away a gift a Grod bestows. 



TJHIV; • ■ >;. 



Hard task indlMd o^t wnctiek wm» to roan ! 

Is hope exotick f ^rows it not at lions ' 

Tes, but an oljoot, Krigiit at orioat mmi, CM 

May press the eye too clonly to bo berno ; 

A distant yhtoe we can aH eoniom, 

It hurts otrr pride, and momes oov eary kn. 

L eu e onem as, (beneath weU-nvndm|^Gc«d^ 
I khiT a name, a poet miiit not spoaky) • 65& 

Stood pilloried on Inikniiy*! h^ ata^^ 
And bore the peHhfi|^ scorn of half an age : 
The very butt of Slander, and tho hfot 
For ev*ry dart that Maiice oTorskot. 
The man that mentioned him at oboo dinsinM. SGH 
All mercy from kis lips, and sneer^ aad kin'd ; 
His crimes were such as Siodom ne^er knowi 
And Perjury stood up to swear all true ; 
His aim was mischief, and kis seal pietence, 
His speech rebellion against common sonso ; 565 

A knave, when tried on hoMesty% plain rule ; 
And when by that of reason, a more Ibol ; 
The World's best comfort was, his doom was peasd: 
Die when he might, he must be daom'd at last. 

Now, Tnith, perform thine olfice ; wall aside 570 
The curtain drawn by Prejudice and Pride, 
Reveal, (the man is dead) to wond'ring eyes, 
Tliis more than monster in his proper guise. 
He lov'd the world that hated him ; the tear 
That dropp^ upon his Bible was sincere : 475 

Assaird by scandal and the tongpue of strife, 
His only answer w^s a blameless iiie ; 
And he that forg'd, and he that threw the dart, 
Had each a brother's int'rest in his heart. 
Paul's love of Ckrtst, and steadiness unbrib'd, 480 

Were copied close in him, and well transerib'd. 
He followed Paul ; his Eeal a kindred flame^ 
His apostolick chiu4ty the same, 
liike him, cross'd cheoHuUy tempestuous naa, 
Forsaking country, kindred, friends, and case ; 585 



HOPE. Itl 

Like him he hltoiir'd, tad lilw Inni emrtaai 

To bear it, 8tiffer*d tiuaiie wlMie'er he weoL 

Bli|ph Calumny I and write iqmi hietonhy 

If honest Ealogy ea» spare thee roem^ 

Thy deep repentance ii thy thousand lies, 600 

Which, aim'd at him, have pieroM th' eflbadedskioa ! 

And say, Blot out my sin, eonleas'dy 4feplor*d, 

Against thhie image, in thy saint, O JLosd < 

No blinder bigot, I maintain it still, 
Than he who most have pleasare, oone what wiU : 
He laughs, whatever weapen Tnlth nay dmw, 600 
And ^teemff her sharp arttUeiy meare stiww. 
Serlpture indeed is ^ain ; bat CM and he 
On Scripture ground are sure to diaagree \ 
Some wiser rule must teach him hew to !■?•, 600 

Than tliis his Maker has seen fit to gWe ; 
Bupple and fleidMe as Indian cme, 
To take the bend ins- appetites ordain ; 
Contrived to suit fVail Nature's crazy ease, 
And reconcile )h« lust with savii^ gnoe. 60ft 

By this, with nice preeisioa of design. 
He draws upon lUeV map a aigsag line> 
That shows how ^ 'tis safir to follow sin, 
And where his danger and Crod's wrath begiOb 
By this he forms, as pleas'd he sports aieng, 0UV 

Hts well-pois'd estimate of right and wrong ; 
And find^ the modish manners of the day, 
Though loose, as hM>mIees as an mfknt'splay. 

Build by whatever plan Caprice decrees. 
With what materials, on what ground you please ; 619 
Tour hope shall stand unblam'd, perhaps admir'd. 
If not that hope the^ Scripture has re<|uir*d. 
The strange conceits, vain projects, ami wild dreams. 
With which hypocrisy for ever teems, 
(Though other folKes strike the pubtick eye, 690 

And raise a laugh,) pass unmolested by ; 
But if, uiMsnvsUe in word or thought, 
A man arise, a man whom God has taught 
9" 



am HOPK. 

With all Eli}sk%4ipiity W'Umo, 

And aU the loir» «f the beltmd Mm, 6W 

To fltorm the «ilMlei» Hm^ b«U in «ir, 

And emite the antsoperVl w«H ; tie ^le^th io i|pM«* 

To sweep awi^ ai rafVigM of liei, 

And pkeByiakaad of ynrioi thea M e ir e i ^t»ite» 

I.gfmi j<ii>fltf/biiw ^efeio Aeif eye ; 630 

To prove, that wkhoHt Obsitt aH gmm m leM, 

All hope deapair, tfast ataadt not on hk «reai i 

Except tiie ftw him QoA amf hmm kofgmta^4, 

A tenfold €nmf eeiBse i^ thereat. 

Throughout — lfind,ih»Cairbttattidiid «iiMirt, 
There dwells • cooaeiottuieflB im er^ bi » Mt| (Pi 

That folly ends where femine ho p e b efi ni) 
And he thai finds his Heav*B flrast lose iiuieiiis. 
Nature opposes wHh her utmost Ibree 
This riving stroke, this vUthnate divorce ; 4S4Q 

And, while rehgion seems to be her vitfWy 
Hates with a (ksep meerity tiu true ; 
Far this, of all that ever influene'd nian, 
Since Abel worshipp*d, or the world began» 
This only spares no hist, admits no plea, £49 

But makes him, if at all, completely free ; 
Sounds forth the aignal, as she mcnrnts her ear* 
Of an eternal, oniversal war ; 

Rejects all treaty, penetrates mil wiles, 649 

Scorns with the baflfie iBfttiTrenee Snfmm and emiliNi ; 
Drives thre«gh the reahnsof SiA» where JUotTeelaf 
And grinds his eroim beneath her bunuBg'Wheehi ! 
Hence aU that is«i man, pride, passion, ftrt, 
Pow'rs of the mind, nnd feelittlfB of the heiirt> 
Insennble of Trttth*s almighty charms, €05 

Starts at to first epfnoaeh, and sounds to arms! 
While Bigotry, with welMlssembled fears, 
Sis eyes shut fast. Us fingers in his ears. 
Mighty to parry and push by Ood's word 
With senseless- neise, his argument the sword^ €90 



■ -ninv^r;. 



HOFB. !#:> 

Pretendi a zeaj Iwr godtiiiMii and gmo*. 
And spitii abhoireMf -in 1^ Chrintian** &£•« 

Parent cfH^^ inoMrtal TrUk i «mU kmmm 
Thy ifoathlewiRMUw Mid4fi«Mifibi all Uon^ own: 
The silent progveis i£^f po«r*r w fupli^ fiQB 

Thy moanft •# iPfbU» immI deipU'd to wne^ 
That few Mie^e t^ weadflrp thon IimA wvo^fbt. 
And noneimi ^»ph ifeiBm, ^nl w^mb tiifv Jiaat taaglit. 
O see me swom^Ker¥f tJii«e, aofi comwind 
A painter's ukM Wto ii p9«^*« iiand* 490 

That while I tfeinbJin^ Ume a vork div4pit» 
FanejtfMjr slswliilqof irom thp deaiiirA* 
^Aad U;lit,4a^«hfMle, and ev'^y sIipoJm be tim^ 

If ever thon hast^eli ifwthet^s pain : 
If ever wIma lie m^h'^t hiu^ sif }i'd again * €75 

If ever on thy ey#lid stood the tear 
That pity had ^9§mhAv% dro^'^oe kv- 
This man wa» Jiappf'-Hhad te Wnrjd'a ^oad wmi$ 
And with it ev'fy joy it can afod } 
Friendship and knw seem'd tenderiy aft stcifsi €00 

Which most should sweeten his nntipoublad Ufii { 
Politely learn'dy and «(f a genUe lace, 
Good breeding and good sense gave all a grno^ 
And whether at the loUetta of the iair 
Ho laugh'd and trifled, made him wels^Mielhinpi iBSfi 
Or if in maseutine debste he aliar'ds 
Ensured him mnfte attei^ion and nagard. 
^Abis, hnw ehsng'd 1 fl^qpfessiT^ of his inind» 
His ayes ate sunk, Anna folded^ h«ad reotin'd ; 
Those aw^syUables, HeU, deat^ and sin, m 

Though wJMspnr'd plainly^ tell what werlw withfli > 
That Conscience tWe pei;lorms her proper pMt» 
And writetf a^oomaday santsnoe on his haact ', 
Forssking, and forsaken of all firtends, 
He now pereeives where earthly pleasure «nd|l €M( 
Hard task ! for one who lateiiy knew nO'Oafls^ 
And hanlMr slill as leatn'd ban^albh df^wr 



T^ HO?B. 

His houra no longer pass immarkM ttwaj, 

A dark importance saddens er'ry day ; 

He liears the notice of the clock perplexed, 700 

And cries, Perhaps eternity strikes next ; 

Sweet musick is no longer mtisiek hefe, 

And laughter sounds like madness in his ear ; 

His grief the world of all her pow*r disarms^ 

Wine has no taste, and beauty has no dian&i; 765 

God's holy "vrord, once trivial in his TieWi 

Now by the voice of his experience true, 

Seems, as it is, tiie fimntain whence alone 

Must spring that hope he pants to make his tmn 

Now let the bright reverse be known abroad ; 710 
Say man's a worm, and pow'r belongs to Crod. 

As when a fblon, whom his country's lairs 
Have justly doom'd for some atroeious cause. 
Expects in darkness and heart chllBiftg fears, 
The shameM close of att his mispent years ; ' 713 

If chance, on heavy pinioipi slowly borne, 
A tempest usher in the dreaded mom. 
Upon his dungeon walls the lightnings play. 
The thunder seems to summon him away. 
The warder at the door his key applies, 79X1 

Shoots back the boh, and aS his cburage dies 
If then, just then, all thoughts of mercy lort, 
When hope, long ling'ring, at last yields the ghoi^, 
The sound of pardon pierce his startled ear, ^ - 

He drops at once his fetters and his fear ; 1SB 

A transport glows in all he lo<^s and speaks. 
And the first thaidtfiid tears bedew his chedcs. 
Joy, ^ superiour joy, that much outweighs 
The o<»nfort of a few poor added days, 
Invades, possesses, and o'erwfaehns the soul 720 

Of him, whom Hope has with a touch made whole, 
lis HeaVn, all Heav'n^descending on the wings 
Of the glad legidns of the King of kings ; 
Tis more — ^^s God diffhsM through ev'ry part> 
Tis God himself triumphant in his heart 736 



it:sessrA 



HOP£. Hi 

O welcome now tbe Sun's once hated light 
HU noonday beams were never half so bright. 
Not kindred minds alone are call'd t' employ 
Their hour^, their days, in list'ning to his joy ; 
Unconscious nature all that he surveys, 740 

Rocks, groves, and streams, must join him m hb 
praise. 

These are thy glorious works, eternal Truth, 
The scoff of wither 'd age and beardless youth ; 
These move the censure ^d illib'ral grin 
Of fools that hate thee and delight in sin : 745 

But these shall last when night has (juench'd tlM 

pole, 
And Heav*n b all depaitad as a scroU. 
And when, as Justice has l<mg since decreed, 
This earth, fhall blaze, and a new world succeed, 
Then these thy glorious works, and they who share 
That hope, which can alone exclude despair, 751 

Shall live exempt firom weakness and decay, 
The brightest wonders of an Endless day. 

Happy the bard, (if that fidr name belong 
To him that blends no fable with his stmg,) TBS 

Whose lines uniting, by an honest art, 
The faithful monitor's, and poet's part, 
Seek to delight, that they may mend msnkmdi 
And while they captivate, infiirm the mind : 
Still happier, if he till a thankful soil, 7180 

And (ruit reward his ho^urable toil : 
But happier far, who comfinrt those that wait 
To hear plain truth at Judah's haUow'4 gate : 
Their language simple, as their manners meek ; 
No shining Wnaments have they to seek ; 7G5 

Hot labour they, nor time, nor talents waste, 
fn sorting flow'rs to suit a fickle' taste ; 
But while they speak the wisdom of the skies, 
Wliich art can only darken and disguise, 
Th' abundant kar^t, recompense divine, 999 

ftiopays their work-— the gie*niog only mine. 



CHARITY. 



^tonikilmaJusmHmmoeterriB 
faia i im c a >ere,.bcmqm 4ivi ; 
Jfye dahmd, qtumvois rtdtant in oMrwm 
Tempora priscttm, 

HoR.Kb.lv.Od.1. 



FAIHEST and foremost of the train, thst wA 
On man*8 most dignified and happiest statOy 
Whether we name thee Charity or Love, 
Chief grace below^ and all in all above, 
Prosper, (I press tl^ee with a pow'rfnl plaa,) 6 

A task I venture on, impell'd by thee: 
O never seen but in thy bless'd effects. 
Or felt but in the soul that Heaven selects ; 
Who seeks to praise thee, and to make thee kaovn 
To other hearts, ^ust have thee in liis own. IQ 

Come, prompt me with benevolent desires, 
Teach me to kindle at thy gentle firos. 
And though disgr&c'u and slighted, to redeem 
A poet's name, by making thee the theme/ 

God, working ever on a social plan, 1^ 

By various tics attaches man to man : 
He made at first, though firee and unconfin'd. 
One man the common father of the kind ; 
Thai ev*ry tribe, though placed as he sees best* 
Where seas or deserts part them from the resty M 



OHA^ITT. lOr 

DiflTring in language, manners, or in &ce, 
Might feel themsehrcs aBied to all the race. 
When Cook — ^lamented, and with tears asjmt 
As ever mingled with heroick dost, 
Steer'd Britain's oak into a world unknown, 95 

And in his country's glory sought his own, 
Wherever he ^vmd man, to natvre tiue, 
The rights of man wore sacred in his view *, 
He soothed with gifts, and greeted with a smitoi 
The simple native of the new-found isle ; 30 

He spum'd the wreteh that slighted or withstood 
The tender argument of kindnnl blood, 
Nor would endure that any shoidd eontrol 
His freebom brethren of the southern pole. 

But though some nobler minds a law reapoet, 95 
That none shall with impunity neglect. 
In baser souls unnimiber*d evils meet. 
To thwart its influence and its end defeat. 
While Cook is lor'd for savage Kvts he sav'd, 
See Cortez odious for a world enslaved * 40 

Where wast thou then, sweet Charity ! where tbmk 
Thou tutelary friend of helpless men ; 
Wast thou in monkish celU and nunn'ries found, 
Or building hospitals on English ground ? 
No. — ^Mammon makes the world his legatee 45 

Through fear, not love : and Heav'n aMiors the fee • 
Wherever found, (and all men need thy care,) 
Nor age nor infency could find thee there. 
The hand that slew till it could slay no more. 
Was glued to the sword hilt with Indian gore. 50 

Their prince, as justly seated onliis Uirono, 
As vain imperial Philip on his own, 
Trick'd out of all his royalty by arf. 
That stripped him bare, and broke his honest heart, 
Died by the sentence of a shaven priest, 55 

For scorning what they taught him to detest. ' 
How dark the veil that intercepts the blaze 
Of Heav'n's mysterious purposes and ways •* 



IM GifAiUTT. 

Crod ftood not^ tii^agb ha aeaia'cl W sUod, aloof; 
And at this hour the conqu'ror foely the pfoof ; 60 

The wreath he won drew down an instant oursQ, 
The fretting pla^e is in the pnbhck pur^a^ 
The canker'd spoil corrodes the pining state, 
8tarT*d by thrt indolence their mines create. 

O could their aaoieBt Incas rise again, €B 

How would they take up Israel's taunting strain i 
Art tho« too iall'n> Iberia ? Do we see 
The robber and the murderer weak as we ? 
Thou, that hast wasted earth, and dar'd deq>ise 
Alike the wrath and mercy of the skies, 70 

Thy pomp is in the grave, tliy glory laid 
Lew in the pits thine avarice has mado. 
We come with joy from our eternal rest, 
To see th* oppresscnr in his turn oppress'di 
Art thou the god, the thunder of whose hand 75 

Roll'd over all our desolated land, 
Shook principalities and kingdoms down, 
And made the mountains trenible at his ikow» i 
The sword shall light ttpon 4hy boasted powers. 
And waste them, as thy sword has wasted oura. 80 
Tis thus Omnipotence his law fuUUs, 
And Vengeance executes what Justice wiUa. 

Again the band of commerce was dcsign'd 
T' assooaate all the branches of mankind.; 
And if a boundless plenty be the robe, 85 

l*rade is the golden girdle of the globe. . , , 
Wise to promote whatever end he means, 
God opens firuitful nature's various scenes . 
Each climate needs what other climes produce, 
And offers something to the gen'ral use ; 90 

No land but listens to the common call, 
And in return receives supply from all. 
This genial intercourse, and mutual aid. 
Cheers what- were else a universal shade. 
Calls nature from her ivy-mantled den, d5 

And softens human rock-work into men. 



IP 



CHARITY. M 

ln|reniott0 Art, with faef tpt^Bbmho^f 
Steps forth to fashion and refiae thtf raoe ; 
Not only €Sht necessity's demuKt, 
But ovorchargeti her-capaciens hand : 100 

Capricious taste itself can crave no inor* 
Tiran she soj^ilies firora her alHrnn^fig sioM . 
She strikes out all that luxury can ask. 
And gains new vigour at her ftndless taiiL 
Her*s is the q>aciott8 arch, the shapely spbe, 106 

The painter's pettei!, and t^ poet's lyrt ; 
From hor the canvass borrows light and ahafle. 
And verse, more lastiAg, hues that never Me. 
• She guides the finger o'er the danehig keys^ 
Gives difficulty all the grace of ease, 110 

And pours a torrent of sweet netles arouMl, 
Fait as the thirsting ear eon drink the sottsd. 

These are thegifis of Art, and Art thrives moil 
Where Commerce has enrieh^d the htisy iSotit. 
He catches all improvements m his flight, 118 

Spreads foreign wonders in his eouiit^'* nght. 
Imports what others have invented well, 
And stirs his own to match them, or excel. 
*Tis thus reciprocatmg> each with each, 
Alternately the nations learn aini teach ; 129 

While Providence enjoini to ev'ry soul 
A union with the vast terraneous whole. 

Heav'n speed the canvass, gallantly unfttrTd 
To furnish and accommodate a worki. 
To give the pole the produce of the sun, 195 

And knit th' unsocial climates into one. — 
Soft airs and gentle heavings of the wave 
Impel the fleet, whose errand is to save. 
To succour wasted regions, and replace *' 

The smile of Opulence in Sorrow's face.— 13U 

Let nothing adverse, nothing unforeseen. 
Impede the bark, that ploughs the deep serene. 
Charg'd with a freight, transcending in its worth 
Thd gems of India, Nature's rarest birth, 

Vol.. F 10 



110 CHARITY 

That flios, like Gabriel on his Lord's commands, Itt 

A herald of God*s love to pagan lands. 

But ah ! what wish can prosper, or what ffrayrt 

For merchants rich in cargoes of despair, 

Who drive a loathsome traffick, gauge, and i^mui, 

And buy the muscles and the bones of man ? 14C 

The tender ties of father, husband, friend, 

All bonds of nature in that moment end ; 

And each emkures, while yet he draws his breath, 

A stroke as fatal as the scythe of death. 

The sable warriour, frantick with regret H3 

Of her he loves, and never can forget, 

Loses in tears the far-receding shore, 

But not the thought, that they must meet no more ; 

Depriv'd of her and freedom at a blow. 

What has he left, that he can yet forego ? 160 

Yes, to deep sadness sullenly resigned. 

He feels his body's bondage in his mind ; 

Puts off his gen'rous nature ; and, to suit 

His manners with his fiite, puts on the brute. 

O most degrading of all ills, that wait 155 

On man, a mourner in his best estate ! 
All other sorrows Virtue may endure. 
And find submission more than half a cure , 
Grief is itself a med'cino, and bcstow'd 
T* improve the fortitude that bears the load, 100 

To teach the wand'rer, as his woes increase. 
The path of Wisdom, all whose paths are peace ; 
But alav'ry ! — ^Virtue dreads it as her grave : 
Patience itself is meanness in a slave ; 
Or if the will and sovereignty of God 1(S 

Bid suffer it awhile, and kiss the rod, 
Wait for Iho dawning of a brighter day, 
And snap the chain the moment when you may. 
Nature imprints upon whate'er we see, 
That hfli a heart and life in it, Be free : J7G 

The beasts are charter'd — neither age nor force 
Can quell the love of freedom in a horse • 



CHARITY. Ill 

fie breaks tho cord, tiiat held him at tiie rack ; 
And conscious of an unencumber'd back,* 
Snnils up the morning air, forgets the rein ; 175 

Loose fly his forelock and hb ample mane ; 
Responsive to the distant nei^ he neighs ; 
Hor stops tUl, oTerloaping all delays, 
lie finds the pasture where his fellows graze. 

Canst thou, and honour'd with -a Christian name, 
Buy what is woman bom, and feel no riutme ; 181 

Trade in the blood of innocence, and plead 
Expedience as a warrant for the. deed ? 
So may the wolf, whom famine has made bold 
To quit the forest and inyade the fold : 185 

So may the ruffian, who witl^ ghostly glide. 
Dagger m hand, steals close to your bedtnde ; 
Not he, but his emergence, forc'd the door, 
He found it inconvenient to be poor. 
Has God then giv'n its sweetness to the cane, ~ 190 . 
Unless his laws be trampled <m — ^in vain ? 
Built a oravo world, which cannot yet subsisty 
Uttless his right to rule it be dismissed ? 
Impudent blasphemy ! So Folly pleads, 
And Ay'rice being judge, with ease succeeds. 196 

But grant the plea, and let it stand for just. 
That man makes roan liis prey, because he wutst ; 
Still there is room for pity to abate 
And sooth the sorrows of so sad a state. 
A Briton knows, or if he knows it not, 900 

The scripture plac'd within his reach, he ought, 
Thac souls have no discriminating hue, 
Alike important in their Maker's view ; 
Tliat none are free from blemish since the fall. 
And LoYe divine has paid one price for alL 905 

Tlie wretch that works and weeps without relief^ 
Has one that notices his silent grief. 
He, from whose hands alone aU pow*r procdede^ 
Ranks it? abuse among the foulest deeds, 



iR cHARmr. 

Coofliders ati injustice with a frown ; SIC 

But marks the man, that treads his fellow down. 

Begone — the whip and beU in that hard hniid 

Are hateful ensi^rns of usurped command. 

Not Mexico eouid purchase kings a claim 

To scourge him, weariness his only bhune ftlfi 

Remember, Heav'n has an ayenging rod ; 

To smtto the poor is treason against Grod. 

Trouble is grodguigly, and hardly brook'di 

While life's snblimest joys are overlook'd : 

We wander o'er a son-bumt thirsty soil, 890 

Murm'ring and weary of our doily toil, 

Fotget t' enjoy the palm-tree's offer'd shade, 

Or taste the fountain in Ijhe neighbouring gtiiAt : 

Else who would lose that had the pow'r to improro . 

The oceasion of transmuting fear to love? 236 

'tis a godlike privilege to save. 
And he that scorns it is himself a slave. 
Inform his mind ; one flash of heavenly day 
Would hoal his heart, and melt his chains away. 

" Beauty for a^ies" is a gifl indeed, 230 

And slaves, by truth enlarg'd, are 'doubly freed 

Then would he say, submissive at thy feet, 

While gratitude and love made service sweet, 

My dear deliv'rer ont of hopeless night, - 

Whose bounty bought me but to give me light, S35 

1 was a bondman on my native plain, 

Sin forg'd, and Ignorance made fiuft the chain , 

Thylips have shed instruction as the dew, 

Taught me what path to i^un, and what pursoe ; 

Farewell my former joys ! I sigh no more 840 

For Africa's once lov'd, benighted shore ; 

Serving a benefactor I am free ; 

At my best home,, if not ezil'd fVom thee. 

Some men make gain a fountain, whence proceedi 

A stream iTf lib'ral and heroick deeds ; 215 

The swell of pity, not to be confined 

Within the scanty limits of the mind. 



CHARITT. U3 

Disdains the bank, and throws the golden sandiiy 
A rich deposit on the bord'ring lands : 
These have an ear for his paternal call, 250 

Who makes some rich for the supply of all ; 
God's gift with pleasure in his praise employ ; 
And T/iomton is familiar with the joy. 
^ O could I worship aught beneath the skies. 
That earth has seen, or fancy can devise, 2G5 

Thine altar, sacred Liberty, should stand, 
Built by no mercenary vulgar hand. 
With fragrant turf, and flow'rs as wild and fair 
As ever dress'd a bank, or scented summer air. 
Duly as evpr on the mountain's height ,260 

The peep of morning shed a dawning light ; 
Again when Ev'ning in her sober vest 
Drew the gray curtain of the fading west, 
My soul should yield thee willing thanks and praise, 
For the chief blessings of my &irest days : 265 

But that were sacrilege — ^praise is not thine, 
But his who gave thee, and preserves thee mino - 
Else I would say, and as I spake bid fly 
A captive bird into the boundless sky. 
This triple realm adores thee — ^thou art come 270 

From Sparta hither, and art here at home. 
Wo feel thy force still active, at this hour 
Enjoy immunity from priesUy pow'r. 
While Conscience, happier than in ancient years, 
Owns no superiour but the God she fears. 275 

Propitious spirit ! yet expunge a wrong 
Thy rights have suffered and our land, too long. 
Teach mercy to ten thousand hearts, that share 
The fears and hopes of a conunercial care. 
Prisons expect the wicked, and were built 260 

To bind the lawless, and to punish guilt ; 
But shipwreck, earthquake, battle, fire, and floodf 
Are mighty mischiefs, not to be withstood,; 
And honest Merit stands on slipp'ry ground 
Where covert g^jilc and artifice abound 285 

10 ♦ 



114 CHARITY. 

Let just Restraint, for publick pe&c^e desigrnVI, 
Chain up the wolres and tigers of mankind ; 
The foe of virtue has no claim to thee, 
But let insolvent Innocence go free. 

Patron of else the most despis'd of men, 290 

Accept the tribute of a stranger's pen ; 
Verse, like the laurel, its immortal meed, 
Should bo the guerdon of a noble deed ; 
I may alarm thee, but I fbar the sfaaroc, 
(Charity chosen as my theme and aim,) * 295 

I must incur, forgetting Howard's name. 
Bless'd with all wealth can give thee, to resign 
Joys doubly sweet to feelings quick as thine, 
To quit the bliss thy rural scenes bestow, 
To seek a nobler amidst scenes of wo, 900 

To traverse seas, range kingdonjs, and bring home, 
Not the'proud monuments of Greece or Rome, 
But knowledge such as only dungeons teach, 
And only sympathy like thine could reach j 
That grief, sequester'd from the publick stage, 3Qft 
Might smooth her feathers, and enjoy her cage .; 
Speaks a divine ambition, and a zeal. 
The boldest patriot might be proud to feel. 
O that the voice of clamour and debate. 
That pleads for peace till it disturbs the state, 310 
Were hush'd in favour of thy gen>ous plea, 
The poor thy cKents, and Heiiv'n*s smile thy ffeo ! 
Philosophy, tLat does not dream or stray, 
Walks arm in arm with Nature all his way ; 
Compasses earth, dives into it, ascends 315 

Whatever step Inquiry recommends, 
Sees planetary wonders smoothly roll 
Round other systems under her control. 
Drinks wisdom at t{ie milky stream of light 
That cheers the silent journey of the night, 320 

And brings at his return a bosom charged 
With rich mstniction, and a soul enlarged 



CHARITY. lia 

The treasnr'd sweets of tho capaciooB plan, 
That Hear'n spreads wide before the view of masi, 
AU prompt his pleased pursuit; and to pursue 335 

Still prompt him with a pleasure always new ; 
He too has a connecting pow'r, and draw 
Man to the centre of the common cause. 
Aiding a dubious and deficient sight 
With a new medium and a purer light. 39Q 

All truth is precious, if not all diYine ; ' 
And what dilates the pow'rs must needs refine. 
He reads the skies, and, watchiiig et^ry dumge, ' 

Provides the fiicnhies an ample range ; 
And wbis mankind, as his attempts prevail, 335 

A prouder station on the gen'ral scale. 
But Reason still, unless divinely taught, 
Whate'er she learns, learns nothing as she oiught , 
The lamp of revelation only shows, 
What human wisdom cannot but oppose, 340 

That man, in nature's richest mantle clad. 
And gracM, with all philosophy eai^add, 
Though fair without, and luminous within* 
Is still the progeny and heir of nn. 
Thus taught, down faUs the plumage of hit prid^ 34& 
He feels his need of an unerring guide, 
And knows that fidling he shall rise no mord. 
Unless the pow'r that bade him stand, restore. 
This is indeed philosophy 4 this known 
Makes wisdom, worthy of the name, his owb ; 360 
And without this, whatever he tliseuss. 
Whether the space between the stars and us. 
Whether he measure earth, compute the sea. 
Weigh sunbeams, carve a fly, or split a flea ; 
The solemn trifler with his boasted ddll 355 

Toils much, and is a solemn trifler still : 
BUad was he born, and his misguided eyes 
Grown dim in trifling studies, blind he dies. 
Self-knowledge uvJj leam'd, of eourse implies 
The rich possession of a nobler prixe : dCf^ 



116 - CHARITY 

For self to self, and God to man rcveai'd, 

(Two themes to Nature's eye for ever scard,) 

Are taught by rays, that fly with equal pace 

From the same centre of enlight'ninor grace. 

Here stay thy foot, how copious, and how clear, t)65 

Th' o'erflowing well of Charity springs here ! 

Hark ! 'tb the musick of a thousand rills, 

Some through the groves, some down the sloping hills, 

Winding a secret or an open course, 

And all supplied from an eternal source. 370 

'She ties of nature do but feebly bind, 

And Commerce partially reclaims mankind ; 

Philosophy, vdthout his heavenly guide, 

May blow up self-conceit, and nourish pride, 

But, while his province is the reas'nmg part, 375 

Has still a veil of midnight on his heart ; 

Tis truth divine, exhibited on earth, 

Gives Cliarity her being and her birth. 

Suppose, (when thought is warm and fancy flowfl, 
What will not argUQient sometimes suppose ?) 380 
An isle possess'd by creatures of our kind. 
Endued with reason, yet by nature blind. 
Let supposition lend her aid once more, 
And land some grave optician on the shore : 
He claps Mb lens, if haply they may see, 385 

Close to the part where vision ought to be ; 
But finds, that though his tubes assist the si^ht, 
They cannot give it, or make darkness light 
He reads wise lectures, &nd describes aloud 
A sense they know not, to the wond'rufig crowd 300 
He talks of light, and the prismatick hues. 
As men of depth in erudition use ; 
But all he gains for his harangue is— Well,— 
What motfstrous lies some travellers will teU ! 

The soul, whose sight all-quick tiing grace renew*, 
Takes the resemblance of tlie good she views, 396 

As diamonds stripped of their opaque disguise, 
Reflect the noonday glory of the skies. 



J 



CHARITY. m 

She speikf of him, litr author, gra^rdian, finend, 

Whose love knew no beginning, knoi^s no end, 400 

In language warm as all that love inspires, 

And in the glow of her intense desires, 

Pants to communicate her noble fires. 

She sees a woild stark blind to what employs 

Her eager thought, and feeds her flowing joys ; 405 

Though wisdom hail them, heedless of her call, 

Flies to save some, and feels a pang for all : 

Herself as weak as her support is strong. 

She feels that frailty she denied so Jong ; 

And, from a knowledge of her own disease, 410 

Learns to compassionate the sick she sees. 

Here see, acquitted of all vain pretence. 

The reign of genuine Charity commence. 

Though scorn repay her sympathetick tears. 

She still is kind and still she perseveres ; 415 

The truth she loves a sightless world blaspheme, 

'Tis childish dotage, a delirious dream. 

The danger they discern not, they deny ; 

Laugh at their only remedy, and die. 

But still a soul thus touched can never cease, 430 

Whoever threatens war, to speak ai peace. 

Pore in her aim, and in her temper ^lild, 

Her wisdom seems the weakness of a child : 

Slie makes excuses where she might condemn, 

Revil'd by those that hate her, pr&ys for them ; 425 

Suspicion lurks not in her artless breast, 

The worst suggested, she believes the best ; 

Not so<m provok'd, however stung and teaz*d. 

And, if perhaps made angry, soo>\ appeas'd ;• 

She rather waves than will dispute her Tight, 430 

And injured, m;^es forgiveness her delight. 

Skich was t^ portrait an apostle drew, 
The bright original was one ho knew ; 
Heav'n held his hand, the likeness must be true. 

When one, that holds communion with the skies. 
Has lill'd his urn where these pure waters rise, 43$ 



U8 CHARITY. 

And once moro mingles with us meaner things, 

Tw e'en as if an angel shook his wings ; 

Immortal fragrance fills the circuit wide, 

That tells us whence his treasures are supplied. 440 

So when a ship, well freighted wiUi the stores 

The Sun matures on India's spicy shores, 

Has dropp'd her anchor, and her canrass &aVd, 

In some safe haven of our western world, 

'Twere vain inquiry to what port she went, 445 

The gale informs us, laden with the scent. 

Some sock, when queasjc conscience has its qualms, 
To lull the painful malady with alms ; 
But charity not feign'd, intends alone 
Another's good — theirs' centres in their own ; 450 

And too short-liv'd to reach the realms of pcaxse, 
Must cease for ever when the poor shall cease. 
Flavia., most tender of her own good name. 
Is rather careless of her sister's fame :. 
Her superfluity the poor supplies, 455 

But, if she touch a character, it dies. 
The seeming virtue weigh 'd against the vice. 
She deems all safe, for she has paid the price : 
No charity but alms ought values she. 
Except in porcelaip on her mantle-tree. 460 

How many deeds, with which the world has rung, 
From Pride, in league with Ignorance, have sprung ! 
But God o'errules all human follies still, 
And bends the tough malerials to his will. 
A conflagration or a wintry flood, 4C5 

Has lefl some hundreds without home or food | 
Extravagajice and Av'rice sliall subscribe. 
While fame and self-complacence ore the brilie. 
The brief proclaim'd, it visits ev'ry pew. 
But first the squure's a compliment but due y- ^0 

With slow deUberation he unties 
His glitt'ring purse, that envy of all eyes. 
And, while the clerk just puzzles out the psthiiy 
Slides guinea behind guUiea in his palm ; 



CHARITY. !!• 

Till finding) wbat he might have fbtmd before, 475 

A smaller piece amidfft the preciotid store, 

Pii|ch*d close between his finger and his thnmb, 

He half exhibits and then drops the snm. 

Gold to be sitre ! — ^Throughout the town 'tis told 

How the good squire gives never less than gold. 480 

From motives such as his, though not the best, 

Springs in duo time stipply for the distressed ; 

Not less effbctual than what love bestows, 

Except that office clips it as it goes. 

Bat lest I seem to sin against a firiend, 485 

And wound the grace I meaii to recommend, 
(Though vice derided with a just design 
Implies lio trespass against love divine,) 
Once more I would adopt the graver style, 
.A teacher should be sparing of bis smile,' 490 

Unless a love of virtue light the flame, 
Satire is,lnoro than tho^ he brands, to blame ; 
He hides behind a magisterial air 
His own ofiences, and strips others' bare t 
Afiects indeed a most humane concern, 495 

Tliat men, if gently tutor*d, will not learn ; 
The muUsh Folly, not to be reclaim'd 
By softer methods, must be' made ashtm'd : 
But, (I might instance in St. Patrick^ doah,) 
Too often rails to. gratify his spleen. 500 

Most sat'rists are indeed a publick scourge : 
Their mildest physick is a fiirricr's purge ; 
Their acid temper turns, as soon as stirr'd. 
The milk of their good purpose all to curd. 
Their zeal begotten, as their works rehearse: 505 

By lean despair upon an empty purse, 
The wild assassins start into the Mrect, 
Prepar'd to poniard whomsoc'er they meet. 
No skill in swordmanship, however just. 
Can be secure against a madman's thrust : r>10 

And even Virtue, so unfairly match'(f, * 

Although immortal, may be prick'd or scrsilch'd 



i 



m CHARITY. 

When Seaadal baa new-minted an old fie, 
Or taz'd invention for a fresh suppty, 
Til caU'd a satire, end the world appean 51f 

Gatfa'ring around it with erected ears : 
A thonsand names are tose'd into tho erowd ; 
Some whii^er'd softly, and some twancf *d ahmd ; 
Just as the ii^iienee of an autboor's brain 
Suggests it safe or dangerous to be plain-^ G8D 

Strange ? how the frequent interjected dash 
Quickens a market, and helps off the trash ^ 
Th' important letters that include the rest, 
Serve as a key to thoso thAit are suppress'd ; 
Conjecture gripes the victims in his paWy 635 

The world is charm'd, and Scrib escapes tbs kw. 
So, when the cold damp shades of nl^ piBV8al« . 
Worms may be caught by either head or tail } 
Forcibly drawn from many a close Teeess, 
They meet with little pity, no redress ; G9^ 

Plung'd in the stream, they ledge open ^f9 sdod^ 
7ood for the ^uniah'd ravers of the flood. 
All zeal for a reform, that gives oSene0 
To peace and eharity, is mere pfetence ; 
A bold remark, but which if weH applied, £39 

Would humble unmy a tow*ring poet's pricku 
Perhaps the raaflb»was in a sportive fit^ 
And had no other play place for his wit ; 
Perhaps enchanted with the love of fome, 
Ho sought the jewel in his neighbour's sliamo ; 540' 
Perhaps — whatever end he might pursue, 
The cause of virtue could not be hts view. 
At ev'ry str<^e wit flashes in our eyes j 
Tlie turns are quick, the polish'd points suipriso^ 
But shine with cruel and tremendous charms, MS 

That, while they ploane, possess us with alarms ; 
So have I seen, (and hastened to tlie sight 
On all the wings of holiday delight,) 
Wfiero stands that monument of ancient pow'r, 
Nam'd with emphatick dignity, the Tmv'r, 550. 



? 



CHAMITY. m 

GoB%laflbtft«y iwpnis, and ptatoK fioi lai M ia gf 
in starry forms disposed upon the waU ; 
We wonder, as wo gwn^ ctaad beHow, 
That brass and stool should mak^ so fine a shaw| 
Bat thoiigh we praise Ui' ezaet desifpnei;'* skiB) 66S 
Account them hnplemeats of mischief stilU 

No works riML^ find aoeepUnce 'm thai d^, 
When all disguises shall be xoAt awaj^ 
That square not tnsly with tiie Soc^tve phOf 
Nor spring from love to Crod, or leve to IIIMI« 66$ 

As he ordains things sordid in their bifth 
70 be resolved into their parent earth ; 
And then^h the cool shsti seek snpefiouf eibs, 
Whatever this wosld produces it absorbs i 
So self starteBOthini^^ but ytrhtA tendtf apeoe XW 

Home lo the goal, whsre it be^^ the faoe. 
Such as our motire i% enr aim mast be ) 
If this be son^y that can a»*er b9 6ee 9 
If self employ m^ whatse*^ is wtong^ 
We irMifjr that ssU; not him we ought; 680 

Such yirUies had n^ piibre their own irew«rd| 
The judge of all men ewes theffu bo regard. 
True Charity^ a pltotdtrinelj nurs*d^ 
Fed by the bve fi?om whioh it rose at firsl^ 
Thrives against {^epo, and in the rudest jiepiiei S9S 
Storms but enliven itm nnftding gr9«n i 
£siib*rant is the shadow it ftuppUes^ 
Its fruit on earth, its 'girowlh above ths'shiesr 
To lodL at him who form'd nsand redeem'd» 
So glorious now, though once so disestoem'd, 580 
To see a God stretch forth his human hand, 
T* uphold thd boundless socoies of his eommand ; 
To recollect thai in a fena like ours, 
He bruis'd betieath bM feet th' infernal pow'rs^ 
Captivity led captive, rose to claim 68i 

The wreath ho won so dearly in our name ; 
That, throned above all height* ho condeacends 
To call the few that trust in him his firicnds ; 

Vol. I. 11 



m OHAIUTY. 

That m tlw hMV^n of he«v*in, that spaoe ht i 

Too Bcaaty for th* exertion of hiB beunsy M 

And shines as if impatient to bestoiw 

Life and a kingdom upon worms beloi7 ; 

Tiiat sight imparts a never-dying iamei 

Though feeble in degree, in kind the aama* 

Like him the soul thiis kindled from above 6fift 

Spreads wide her arms of universal love : 

And, still enlarged as she receives the grace, 

Includes creation in her close embrace. 

Behold a christian !— and without the fires 

The founder of that name alone inspirM, 600 

Though all accomplishment, aH knowledge mMt 

To make the shining prodigy complete, 

Whoever boasts that name— behold a cheat t 

Were love, in these the world's last doting years 

Asfrequent as the want of it appears, COS 

The churches warm'd, they would no Imiger hold 

Such frozen figures, stiff as they are cold ; 

Relenting forms would lose their pow*r, or cease ; 

And e'en the dipp'd and sprinkled live in peace : - 

Each heart would quit its prison m the breast, 610 

And flow in free communion with the rest. 

The statesman, skilled in projects dark and deep, 

Mi^ht bum his useless Machiavel, ai^ sle<^ ; 

His budget often fill'd, yet always poor, 

Might swing at ease behind his study. door, G15 

No longer prey upon our annual rents, 

Or scare the nation with its big contents . 

Disbanded legions freely might depart, 

And slaying man would cease to be an art. 

No learned disputants would take the field, 690 

Sure not to conquer, and sure not to yk^d ; 

Both sides decciv'd, if rightly understood, 

Pelting each other for the publick good. 

Did charity prevail, the press would prove 

A vehicle of virtue, tnith, and love ; 035 



CHARITY. 
And I migiit spare myielf the painf to tfaow 
What few can learn, and all suppose they know. 
Thus have I sought to grace a serious lay 
With many a wild, indeed, but flow'ry spray, 
In hopes to gain what else I must have lost, 
Th' attention pleasure has so much engrossed. 
But if unhappily deceivM I dream, 
And prove too weak for so divine a theme, 
Let Charity forgive me a mistake. 
That zeal, not vanity, has (^hanc'd to make. 
And spare the poet for his subject's sike. 



630 



63£ 



CONVERSATION. 



Aom neqfu me tanlum venienlis siMktf atistri, 
Nee fiercussajimcantjluctu torn lUora, nee tpim 
8axosa» inter deeurrantjktmina voiles, 

ViRG. Eel. 5. 



THOUGH nature weigh <rar talents, and d iip e M t 
To ey*rj man his modicum of senfle, 
And Conversation in its better part 
Maj be esteem'd a gift, and not an art, 
fet much depends, as in the tiller's toil, 
On culture and the sowing of the soil. 
Words loam'd by rote a parrot may reheaise. 
But talking is not always to conTorse ; 
Not more distinct fVom harmony divine, 
The constant creaking of a country sign. 
As Alphabets in ivory employ. 
Hour after hour, the yet unlettered boy, 
Sorting and puzzling with a deal of glee 
TIioso seeds of science, call«)d his A B C ; 
So language in the moutlis of the adult. 
Witness its insignificant result. 
Too often proves an imjslcment of play, 
A toy to sport with, and pass time away. 
Collect at evening what the day brought forth, 
Compress the sum into its solid worth, 



10 



15 



20 



=?3«gfl^ 



CONVERSATION. 125 

And if it weigh the importance of a fly, 
The scales are false, or algebra a lie, 
Sacred interpreter of human thought, 
How few respect or use thee as they ought ! 
But all shall give account of ev*ry wrong, 85 

Who dare dishonour or defile the tongue ', 
Who prostitute it in the cause of vice, 
Or sell their glory at the market price ; 
Who vote for hire, or point it with lampoon, 
The dear-bought placeman, and the cheap bnffixm. 90 

There Is a prurience in the speech of some. 
Wrath stays him, or else God would strike them dumb 
His wise forbearance has their end in view, 
They fill their measure, and receive their due. 
The heathen lawgivers of ancient days, 35 

I^unes almost worthy of a Christian's praise. 
Would drive them forth from the resort of men, 
And shut up 8v*ry sat3rr in his den. 
come Tiot ye near innocence and truth. 
Ye worms that eat into the bud of youth ; 40 

Infectious as impure, your blighting pow*r 
Taints in its rudiments the promised flower ; 
Its odour perish'd, and its charming hue, 
Thenceforth His hateful, for it smells of you. 
Not e'en the vigorous and headlong rage 45 

Of adolescence, or a firmer age, 
Affords a plea allowable or just, 
For making speech the pamperer of lust ; 
But when the breath of age commits the fault, 
'Tig nauseous as the vapour of a vault. 50 

So wither'd stumps disgrace the sylvan scene, 
No loi^ger fruitful, and no longer green ; 
The sapless wood, divested of the bark, 
Grows fungous, and takes fire at every spark. 

Oaths terminate, as Paul observes, all s^ife — 55 
Some men have surely then a peaceful life : 
Whatever subject occupy discourse, 
The feats of Vestris, or the naval force, 
11 • 



126 COKVERSATION. 

Asseveration blustering in your iaco 

Makes contradiction such a hopeless cas« : ^ 

In ev'ry tale they tell, or false, or true, 

Well known, or such as no man ever knew^ 

They fix attention, heedless of your pain, 

With oaths like rivets forc'd into the brain ; 

And e'en when sober truth prevails throughontt C& 

They swear it, till affirmance breeds a doi^t^ 

A Persian, humble servant of the mmj 

Who, though devout, yet bigotry had njone. 

Hearing a lawyer, grave i^ his addregs^ 

With adjurations ev'ry word impre«9> 7!l> 

Suppos'd the man a bishop, or at leasts 

God's name so much upon his lips, a priest ! 

Bow'd at the close with all his graceful airs. 

And begg'd an int'rest in his frequent pray'ra. 

Go quit the rank to which ye stood pre£^'d, 75 
Henceforth associate in one com^mon herd > 
Religion, virtue, reason, common aemie, 
Pronounce your human form a false piotenc.e ; 
A mere disguise, in which a devil lurks;, 
Who yet betrays his secret by his worka. . 80 

.Te pow'rs who rule the tongue^ if such th^i:© WB* 
And make colloquial happiness your carei 
Preserve me from the thing I dread and h^, 
A duel in the form of a debate, 

The clash of arguments and jar of words, B5 

Worse than the mortal brunt of rival swords, 
Decide no question with their tedious lengthy 
(For opposition gives opinion strength) 
Divert the champions prodigal of breath. 
And put the peaceably dispos'd to death. 96 

thwart me not, Sir Soph, at ev*ry turn. 
Nor carp at ev'ry flaw you may discern ; 
Though syllogisms hang not on my tongue, 

1 am not surely always in the wrong : 

Tis hard if all is felse that I advance, ^' 

k fool must now and then be right by chance. 



Not hH thtt freedom of disMnt 1 blame ; 

No— there I grwnt the privilege I claim. 

A disputable point, i« no man*t ground ; 

Rove where you please, *tia common all arouad. 100 

Discourse may want an animated — ^No, 

To brush the surfi^ce, and to make it flow } 

But still remeo^ier, if you mean to please, 

To press your point with modesty and eaw^ 

The mark at which my justier aim I take, 105 

Is contradictioii for its own deac sake» 

Set jrouf opinion at whatmrer pitchy 

Knots and impediments make something Utch , 

Adopt his own, tis equally in vain, 

Your thread of argument is snapped again ] ^^^ 

The wrangler, rather than accord with you, 

Witi judge himself deceiv'd» and prove it top. 

Vociferated logick kills me quite, 

A noisy man is always in the rights 

I twirl my thumbs* &11 back into xny cbaici 115 

Fix on the wainscoat a distressful stare. 

And wlien I hope his blunders are all out. 

Reply discreetly — ^To be sure — ^no doubt I 

DubivwLs is such a scrupulous good man — 

Yes — ^you may catch him tripping, if you cad. H^ 

He would not with a peremptory tone,. 

Assert the nose upon his face )m own ; 

With hesitation admirably slaw. 

He humbly hop^&— pcesumes-r-it may be 80. 

His evidence, if he were call'd by law 135 

To swear to sqiqa eniormity he saw, 

For want of prominence and just relief, 

Woqld hang an honest man, and save a thief 

Through constant dread of giving truth ofiencei 

He ties up all his liearers in suspense ; 139 

Knows what he knows, as if he knew it not ; 

Wkat >e remombors, seems to have forgot *. 

His sole opinion, whatsoever beCall, 

Centering at lafit in having none at all 



"!!:? 



1528 CONVERSATION. 

Yety though ho tetuse and balk yoar Ust'nin^ ear, 185 

He makes one osefUl point exceeding clear ; 

However ingenious on his darling th^me 

A sceptick in philosophy may seem, 

Reduc'd to practice, his beloved role 

Would only prove him a consummate fbbl: 140 

Useless in him alike both brain and speech. 

Fate having placM all truth above his reach, 

His ambiguities his total sum, 

He might as well be blind, and deaf, and dumb. 

Whore men of judgment creep and ieel their way, 145 

The positive pronounce without dismay ; 

Their want of light and intellect supplied 

By sparks absurdity strikes out of pride. 

Without the means of knowing right from wrong. 

They always are decisive, clear, and strong; 150 * 

Where others toil with philosophick force, 

Their nimble nonsense takes a shqrter course ; 

Flings at your head conviction^ in the limip, 

And gains remote conclusions at a jump : 

Their own defect invisible to them, 155 

Seen in another, they at once condemn ; 

And, though self-idolized in ev'ry case, 

Hate their own likeness in a brother's flice. 

The cause is plain, and not to be denied. 

The proud are always most provok'd by pride, 169 

Few competitions but engender spite ; 

And those the most, where neither has a right. 

TJie point of honour has been deem'd of use, ' ^ 
To teach good manners and to ctirb abuse ; 
Admit it true, the consequence is clear, ife 

Our polish 'd manners are a ma£k we wear, » 

And, at the bottom barb'rous still and rude, 
We are restrain'd, indeed, but not subdued. ' ' * 

The very remedy, however sure, 

Springs from the mischief it intends to cure, tW' 

And savage in its principle appears, 
Tried as it sliculd be. hv llio fruit it bears 



t " — 



COI«V£RSATION, m 

Tm hard, indeed if natluiig will dfifend 

Mankind from quarieln but their fatal end ^ 
That now and then -a. hero ni\»t decease, 175 

That the surviying WQ^id mAjr live in peaccw 
' Pevhaps at last close scrutiny maj show 
The practice dastardly^ a^d mean, and low ^ 
That men engage in it compeird by fozcc^ 
And fear, not courage, i3 its. proper toureo, 180 

The fear of tyrant custQm« wd the fbta 
Lefll fops should cen«ure us> and fools should |Nie«r. 
At least to trample qn our Maker's lawSt 
And hazard life for aay or no oausp, 
To rush into a fi^'d fiteroal state 185 

' Out of the very |ianves pf rage and hp-t^i. 
Of send another shiv'ring to the bar 
With all the guilt of such unnatural war» 
Whatever Use may iJtfge, or Honour plcod^ 
On Reason*s verdict if ^ ipa^m^'« floitrfl* jU** 

Am I to set my life upon a throw^ 
Becuise a bear is rude, and surly ? ^o— 
A moral, sensible, and well-bred man 
Will not affiront mo y ^x^ no other can. " 
Were I empower'd to regulate the lists, lOp 

They should encounter with well-loaded fists ' 
A Trojan combat would be somethmg r^jv, 
Let Dares beat Entelliis black ana biuo ', 
Then each might show, to his atimu-mg ft'}ci;idf? * 
In honourable bunips his rich amends, 'JOi) 

And carry in cpntusions of his skuD, * 

A n^tisfactory receipt" in full 
A story, in which native humour reigns, 

Is oOLcn useful, always entertains : 

A graver fact, enlisted on your side, 205 

May furnish illusiratiou, well applied ; 

Bui sedentary weavers of long talcs 

Give me the fidgets, and my patience faiLi. 

Tis tlie most asinine employ on earth, 

To he3ur thoin tell of parentage and birt}i, 210 



laa CONVERSATION. 

And echo conyerAitions,4ulI and dry, 

Embellished with — He said, and So said /. 

At ey'rj intenriew their route the same, 

The repetition mokes attention lame : 

We bustle up with unsuccessful speed, S15 

And in the saddest part cry — DroU indeed 

The path of narrative with care pursue. 

Still making probability your clew ; 

On all the vestiges of truth attend, 

And let them guide you to a decent end. 820 

Of all ambitions man may entertain j 

The worst, that can invade a sickly brain, 

Is that, which angles hourly for surprise. 

And baits its hook with prodigies and lies. 

Credulous infancy, or age as weak, 7SS 

Are fittest auditors for such to seek. 

Who to please others will themselves disgrace, 

Tet please not, but affront you to your face. 

A great retailer of this curious ware 

Having unloaded and made many stare, 830 

Can this be tru^ ? — an arch observer cries, 

Yes, (rather mov*d) I saw it with these eyeB ; 

Sir ! I believe it on that ground alone ; 

[ could not, had I seen it with my own. 

A tale should be judicious, clear, succinct ; 235 

The language plain, and incidents well linked , 
Tell not as new what ev'ry body knows. 
And, new or old, still hasten to a close ; 
There, cent*Bing in a focus round and neat. 
Let all your rays of information meet. 840 

What neither yields us profit nor delight 
Is like a nurse's lullaby at night ; 
Guy, Earl of Warwick and fair Eleanor, 
Or giant-killing Jack, would please mo more. 

The pipe, with solemn interposing puff, 245 

Makes half a sentence at a time enough ; 
The dozing sages drop the drowsy strain, 
Then pause, and puff" — and speak, and pause again. 



CONVERSATION. m 

Bach often, like the tobe they bo admirOy 
Important triilers ! have more smoke than fire. fl50 
Pemicione weed i whose sceat the fair annoys ; 
Unfriendly to society's chief joys, 
Thy worst effect is banishing for hours 
The sex, whose presence civilizes ours : 
Thou art indeed the drug a gord'ner wants, 255 

To poison vennin that iniest his plants ; 
But are we so to wit and beauty blind, 
As to despiso the glory of our kind. 
And show the softest minds and fairest ibrms 
As little mercy, as he grubs and woiyns ? 260 

They dare not .wait the riotous abuse, 
Thy thirst-creating steams at length produce. 
When wine has giv*n indecent language birth, 
And forc'd the floodgates of licentious mirth ; 
For sea-born Venus her attachment shows 263 

Still to that element from which she rQse, 
And with a quiet, which no fumes disturb, 
Sips meek infusions of a milder herb.. 

Th* emphatick speaker dearly loves t' oppose. 
In contact inconvenient, nose to nose, 270 

As if the gnomon on his neighbour's phiz, ' ^ 

Totich*d with a magnet had attracted his. 
His whiq)er'd theme, dilated and at large. 
Proves after all a wind-gun's airy charge, 
An extract of his diary — ^no more, 275 

A tasteless journal of the day before. 
Ho walked abroad, o'ertaken in the rain, 
CaH'd on a friend, drank tea, fetepp'd home agam, 
Resom'd his purpose, had a world of talk 
With one he stumbled on, and lost his walk. 280 

I uitemipt him with a 8ud<^en bow, 
Adieu, dear Sir, lest you should lose it now. 

I cannot talk with civet in the room, 
A fine puss-gentleman that's all perfume ; 
The sight's enough — ^no need to smell a beau— 288 
Who thiusts his nose into a raree show ? 



K.^.__,; 



m CX>NVEnSATKMf. 

His odoriferoui ftttempts to please 

Perhaps might pro^>er with « swarm of hcwi j 

But we that stake no honey, though we stteg^ 

Poets are sometimes apt to maul the tkbigi Mf 

Tis wrong to bring into a mix'4 resort, 

What make some sick, and otlters k la m»H4 

An argument of eogenee, we may Say, 

Why such aone whcnM keep himself swi^. 

A graver coxcomb we itiay aomeUmes swe^ Ml 

Quito as absurd, though not so light as he t 
A shallow brain behind a deiiette madf ^ - 
An oracle within an empty cai^^ 
The solemn, fop ; signifietot and bndg« ; 
A fool with judges, amongst feels a }ndg#) 90$ 

He says but Httle, and that litHe said 
Owes all its'weight, Bke loaded «ee, to iMdi 
His wit invites you by his h>ek« to Cottle, 
But when you knock it nevtr is At hMM) 
Tis like a parcel sent yo^ t^ the^ste^^ . MS 

Some handsome present, as yomr hepes prcWgtT 
Tis heavy, bnlky, and tmfa ihir te prov« 
An absent friend's fidelity and iove ; 
. But when ui^[»ck*d yow dlMppcintAicnt p6km 
To find it stutfVI w5thbridAiM», earth, and Mbmi. ^0 

Some men eittploy thchr health, an n^ly tri*at, 
[n making known how oft they hav« been i^ 
And give as in recitals of disease 
A doctor*s trouble, but without the fees ; 
Relate how many weeks they kept their beef ) Stl5 
How an emetick or cathlrtick sped ; 
Nothing is srightly touched, nmch less forgot. 
Nose, ears, and eyes, seem present on the spdl 
Now the distemper, spite of draught or piH, 
Victorious seem'd, and now the doctor's skffl ; S*) 
And now— ala^, foi imforesieen mishaps ♦ 
They put on a Aorip nightcap and relapso ; 
They thought ihcy must have died, they were so Hd] 
Their peevish hearers almost wasli tliey had. 



CONVERSATION. 133 

Some fretful tempers winee at ey'ry touch, 335 

IFou always do too little or too much ; 
You speak with lifis, in hopee to entertain, 
ir«iif elevated voice goes through the bram ; 
Vou fall at once into a lower hey, 
That's worsen— the dronepipe of an humUebee. 330 
The southern sash achnits too strong a light. 
Ton rise and drop the curtain — now 'tis mght 
He dbakes with oold*-yott stir the fire and strtr^ 
To make a hlaze-*-that's roasthig him idive. 
Serve him with venisonf and he chooses fish ; 935 

With soal — ^that's just the sort he wonld not wish. 
He takes what he at first profem'd to loath^, 
And in due time feeds heartily on both ; 
Tet still overclouded with a constant frown. 
He does not swallow, but he gulpe it down. 9i0 

Tour hope to please him vain on ev'ry plan, 
liimself should wprk that wonder, if he can — 
Alas \ his efforts double his distress, 
He likes yours little, a^ his own still less. 
Thus always teazing others, alw&y* teax'd» 8i5 

His only pleasure is — to be displeased, 
I pity bashful men, -who feel the pain 
Of fimcied scorn, and nnde«>erv'd disdm, 
And bear the marks, upon a blushing fiie(9> 
Of needless shame, and self-«aapQs'd ditgraos. 360 

Our sensibilities are so acute, 
The fear of being silent makes us mute. 
We sometimes think we could a speech produce 
Much to the purpose, if our tongues were loose ; 
But being tried, it dies upon tlie lip, ^i 

Faint as a chicken's note that lias the pip : 
Our wasted oil unprofitably burns, 
Like hidden lamps in old sepulchral nms, 
Few Frenchmen i)f this eviljiave complain'd ; 
It seems as if we I3ritous were ordain'd, . 360 

By way of wholesome curb upon our pride, 
To fear each other, fearing none hosule. 
Vol. I. 1-2 . 



134 CX)NVERSATION. 

Th© cause perhaps inquiry may descry, 

Self-searching with an introrerted eye, 

Conceal'd within an unsuspected part, 365 

The vainest comer of our own vain heart : 

For ever aiming at the worlds esteem, 

Our self-importance ruins its own scheme } 

In other eyes our talents rarely shown, 

Become at length so splendid in our own, 370 

Wo dare not risk them into publick view, 

Lest they miscarry of what seenn their due. 

True modesty is a discerning grace. 

And only blushes in the proper pkce ; 

But counterfeit is blmd, and skulks through fear, 375 

Where 'tis a shame to be asham*d t* appear * 

Humility the parent of the first, 

The last by vaaity produc'd and nursM. 

The circle form'd, we sit in silent state. 

Like figures drawn upon a dial plate ; '^ 380 

Yes, ma'am, and No, ma'am, utter'd softly, show 

Ev'ry five minutes how the minutes go ; 

Each individual, sufTring a constraint, 

Poelry may, but colours cannot paint ; 

As if in close committee on the sky, ~ 385 

Reports it hot or cold, or wf^t or dry ; 

And finds a changing clime a happy source 

Of wise reflection, and well-tim'd discourse. 

We next inquire, but softly and by stealth, 

Like con8ervat<Mr8 of the publick health, 390 

Of epidemick throats, if such there are. 

And coughs, and rheums, and phthisicks, and catnrrli 

That theme exhausted, a wide chasm ensues, 

Fill'd up at last with interesting news, 

Who danc'd with whom, and who are like to wed, 3!)5 

And who is Iiang'd, and who is brought to bed ; 

But fear to call a more important cause, 

As if 'twere treason against English laws. 

The visit paid, witJi ecstasy we come, 

As from a seven years' transportation home. 400 



CaNVERSATION. ]» 

And there resume «n uneo^jarrftss'd brow, 
RecovTing what we lost we laiow*not how, 
The faculties, tliat seemed rediie*d to nought, 
Expression and tke privilege of thought. 

The reeking, roaring hero of the chase, 405 

I give him ever as a desp'rate case. 
Physicians write in. bopes to work a cure. 
Never, if honest ones, when death is sure ; 
And though the fox he fellows may be tam*d, 
A mere fox follower never is reclaim'd. 410 

Some farrier, should prescribe in9 prop^ oovrse, 
Whose only fit companion is his horse ; 
Or if Reserving of a better doom. 
The noble beast judge otherwise, his groom. 
Yet e'en tlie rogue that serves him, tho' he stand 416 
To take his honour's orders, cap in hand. 
Prefers his fellow grooms with, much good iense» 
Their skill a truth, his maker's a pretence. 
If neither horse nor- groom affeet the squire, 
Where can at last his jeeko3rship retire ? 420 

Oh to the club, the seene of savage joys. 
The school of coarse good fellowsltip and noise ; 
There in tlie sweet society of those 
Whose friendship from his boyish years ho chose^ 
Let him improve his talent if he can, 485 

Till none but beasts acknowledge him a man. 

Man's heart liad been impenetrably- seal'd, 
Like theirs that cleave tlie flood cgr graze the field, 
Had not his Maker's all-bestowing hand 
Giv'n him a soul, and bade him understand ; 490 

The reas'ning pow'r voucltsafd of course inferr'd 
The pow'r to clothe that reason with his word ; 
For all is perfect that God works on earth, 
And he that gives conccpti<niy aids the birth. 
If this be plain, 'tis pl9.inly understood, 495 

What uses of his boon the giver would. - 
'The mind despatch'd upon her busy toil, - 
Should range where Providence hds l^ees^d the eoil; 



im CONVERSATION. 

Visitinor ey*ry flow'r with laboar meet, 

And guihYmg all her treamires tweet by tweet ; 441 

She should iinbue the tongtte with* what the dp§f 

And shed the balmy blessing on the lipt, 

That good diffus'd may more abondant grow. 

And speech may praise the pow*r that bidt It fkfw: 

Will the sweet warbler of the Ityelong nigtetj M 

That fills the listening lover with delight, 

Forget his harmony, with rapture hwrd^ 

To learn the twitt*ring of a mea n er bird ^ 

Or make the parrot's mimiekry his ehoiee, 

That odious libel on a human voiee ? 4lBb 

No — Nature, unsophistieote by man, • 

Starts not aside from her Creator*^ pkn | 

The melody, thiit was at first detign'd 

To cheer the rude forefathers of manldad, 

Is note for note dellver'd in our eurt, 4S5 

[n the last scene of lier mx thotrtand years. 

Yet Fashion, leader of a chatt*ring tralti, 

Whom man for his own hiirt fiermits to relifs. 

Who shifts and chancres all things but hit ^iMp^ 

And would degrade her votary to an ape^ 460 

The fruitful parent of abuse atid wiroiig. 

Holds a usnrp'd dominion o>r has toifgoe ; 

ThOrc sits and prompts him with his own dltjftttOi^ 

Prescribes the theme, the tone, and the grinMO«i< 

And, when accomplished in her w&jrward school, 465 

Calls gentleman whoij she has made A fool. 

Tis an unalterable fix'd decree, 

That none could frame or ratify but she, 

That Hear'n and Hell, and righteousnets attd mtk. 

Snares in his path, and fbes that luA within, 4Uti 

God and his attributes, (a field of day 

Where 'tis an angel's happiness to stray,) 

Fmits of his love tad wonders of hit mighty 

Be never ham'd in ears esteemed polite. 

That he who darea, when the forbids, be grattf, M 

Shdl stand prowerib'd, a madman, or a knave^ 



CONVERSATION. W 

A close designer not to be belioT'd, 
Or, if ezoas'd that charge, at least deceiv'd. 
Oh- folly worthy of the nurse's lap, 
Give it the breast, or stop its month with pap ! 480 
[s it incred&Ie, or can it seem 
A dream to any, Except those that dream. 
That man sbonld love his Maker, and that fire, 
Warming his heart, should at his lips transpire i 
Know then, and modestly let fall your eyes, 485 

And veil your daring ciest that braves the skiefc , 
That air of insolence aifr<mts your God, 
Ton need his pardon, and provoke his rod : 
Now, in a posture that becomes you more ^ 
Than that heroick strut assinn'd before, 490 

Know your arrears with ev'ry hour accrue 
For mercy shown, while wrath is justly due. 
The time is short, and there are souls on earth, 
Though future pain may serve for present mirth, 
Acquainted with the woes, that fear or shame, 496 
By Fashion taught, forbade them once to name. 
And having felt the pangs you deem a jest, 
Have prov'd them truths too big t<^)e express 'd. 
Go seek on revelation's hallow'd ground. 
Sure to succeed, the remedy they found ; 500 

Touch'd by that pow'r that you have dar'd to mock. 
That makes seas stable, and dissolves the rock, 
Your heart shall yield a life-renewing stream. 
That fools, as you have done, shall call a dream. 

It happen'd on a solemn eventide, 605 

Soon after He that was our Surety died. 
Two bosont fHends, each pensively inolin'd. 
The scene of all those sorrows left behind. 
Sought their own village, busied as they went 
In musings worthy of the great event : 616 

They spake of him they lov'd, of him whose life, , 
Though blameless, had incurr'd perpetual strifo. 
Whose deeds had left, in spite of hostile arts, 
A deeo memorial graven on their hearts. 
12* 



138 CX>J>rVBRSATION. 

The recollection, like a rein of ore MS 

The farther trac'd, enriched them BtiU th.e moie f 
They thought him, and they justly thought him, one 
Sent to do more than he appeared t' have done ; 
T* exalt a people, and to place thbm high 
'Above all else, and wonder'd he should die. 580 

Ere yet they brought their- journey to an mmI, 
A stranger joined them, courteous as a friend^ 
And ask'd them, with a kind engaging air, 
What theif afflietion was, and begg'd a share. 
Inform 'd, he gather 'd up the broken thread, 62S 

And truth and wisdom gracing all he said. 
Explained, illustrated, and searcl^/d so w^ 
The tender theme on which they chose to dwell, 
That reaching home, the night, they said, is near, 
We must not now be parted, sojenm here. * 530 

The new aeqaaintance soon became a guest. 
And, made so welcome at their simple feast, 
He bless'd the bread, but vanished at tl^e word, 
And left them both exclaiming, 'Twas the Lord V* 
Did not our hearts feel all he deign'd to say — 535 
Did they not bum wilhin us by the way ? . 

Now theirs was converse, such as it behoves 
Man to maintain, and such as God approves ; 
Their view, indeed were indistinct and dim, 
But yet successful being aim'd at him. 540 

Christ and his character their only scope. 
Their object, And their subject, and their hope. 
They felt what it became them much to feel, 
And wanting him to Ipose the sacred seal, 
Found him as' prompt, as their desire w&s true, 545 
To spread the new-bom glories in their view. 
Well — ^whst are ages and the lapse of time 
Mtttch'd against truths as lasting as sublime ' 
Can length of years on God himself exact ? 
Or make that fietioa, which was once a fact f . 551^ 
No— marble and recording brass decay. 
And like the graver's memory pass aw^y ; 



li*^ 



CX)NVERSATICMSr. 130 

llie wodcf of man inherit, u is josty 
Their .sirthof Is frailty, mnd return to doit ; 
But truth divine for ever stands secure, . 556 

lis head is guarded as its base is sore ; 
F1x*d in the rolling flood of endless years, 
The pillar of th' eternal plan appears, 
The raving storm and dashing waves defies. 
Built by that architect who built the skies. C60 

Hearts may be found that harbour, at this hour, 
Tlmt love ci Christ and all its ^ok'ning pow^r ; 
And lips, unstain'd by &31y or by strife. 
Whose wisdom drawn from the deep well of ll&y 
Tastes of its healthful origin, and flows 6G5 

A Jordan for th* ablution of our wees. 
O days of Heav*n, and nights of equal praise, 
Serene and'peaceful as those heavenly days, 
When souls drawn upwards hi commmuon sweiity 
Enjoy the stiMness of some dose retreat, 579 ' 

Discourse, as if releasVl and safe at he^Oe^ 
Of dangers pass'd, and wcmders yet io come, 
And spread the sacred Ueasures g£ the Weast 
Upon the lap of covenanted rest. 

What, always dreaming over heavenly things, 875 
Like angel heads in stone with pigeon wings ' 
Canting and whining out all day the word, 
And half the night ? fan^tiok and absurd ! 
Mine be the friend less frefuent m hm pray*rs, i 

Who makes no bustle with his sonlli uSaksp 660 

Whose wit can brighten up a wintry dvy, 
And chase the i|»ieiietick dull hours away ; 
Content oa earth in earthly things to shine. 
Who waits for Heav'n ere he becomes divine. 
Leaves saints t' enjoy those altitudes they' teach, 685 
And plucks the £ruit ]4ao*d more within his reaob* 

WeU spoken, Advocate of sin and shame, 
Knows by ^y bleatii^, Ignoranee thy name^ 
Is sparkling wit the world's exclusive right, 
The fiz'd fee simfde of the vaia and light ' 600 



l!b- 



140 CONVKRSATION. 

Can hopes of Heav'n, bright prospects of an 1 
That come to waft us ont of sorrow's pow*f, 
Obscure or quench a faculty that finds 
Its happiest soil in the serenest minds ? 
Religion curbs indeed its wanton play, 696 

And brings the trifler under rig'rous sway, 
But gives it usefulness unknown before, " 
And, purifying, makes it shine the more. 
A Christian's wit is inoffensive light, 
A beam that aids, but never grieves the sight ; €0(^ 
Vigorous in age as in the flush of youth, 
*Tis always active on the side of truth : 
Temp'rance and peace insure its healthful state, 
And make it brightest at its latest date. 
Oh I have seen, (nor hope perhaps in vain, 605 

Ere life go down, to see such sights again,) 
,A vet 'ran warriour in the Christian field, 
Who never saw the sword he could not wield ; 
Grave, wifliotit* fulness, learned without pride, 
Exact, yet not precise ; though meek, keen-^*d ; 616 
A man that wouM have foiPd at their own play 
A dozen would-be's of the modem day ; 
Who, when occasion justified its use, 
Had wit as bright as ready to produce ; 
Could fetch from records of an earUer age, ^5 

Or from philosophy's enlightenM page, 
*llis rich materials', and regale your ear 
With strains it was a privilege to hear : 
Yet above all, his luxury suprenie, 
And his chief glory, was the Gospel theme j €90 

There he was copious as old Greece or Rottift, 
His happy eloquence scem'd there at home, 
Ambitious not to shine or to excel. 
But to treat justly what he lov'd so veeH. 

It moves me more perhaps than folly ought, OSSS 
When some green heads, as void of wit as thoo^ll^ * 
Suppose themselves monopolists of sense, 
And wiser men's ability pretence. " . ., . 



=:*il 



OOKVERSATION. 141 

ThoQf h time stiB w«u vis, mnd wo must grow ol^ 
Such men are nc^ forff&i as soon as cold, 080 

Their firagrant memory .will outlast their tomb, 
Embalm'd for over in its own perfame. 
And to say trutfi, thou^ in its early prime, 
And when nnstain^d with aay grosser crime, 
Youth has a sprifhtlmess and fire to boast, G3S 

That in the valley of decline are lost, 
And Virtue with peculiar charms appears, 
Crown'd with the gariand (^life's blooming y«M; 
Tet age, by long esperience well in£>rm*d, 
Well read, well teo^r'd, with religion wormM, 640 
That fire abated, which impels rash youth, 
Proud of his speed to overshoot the truth, 
As time improves the grape*s authentick juiee. 
Mellows an^ makes the q>eech more fit ibr ttiMi 
And claims a revVence in its short'ning day, 64$ 

That 'tis an honour and a joy to pay. 
The fruits of age less fair, a^ yet mottf soond^ 
Than those q, brighter seascm pours around ; 
And like the stores antunnai suns mature, 
' Through wintry ri|oar8 unimpab'd enditre , 060 

What is fanatick ]^onzy, seom'd so muchj 
And dreaded more than a contagious tottch ? . 
I grant it dang'ious, and approve ytmt fesry 
That fire is catching if you draw too neur | 
But sage observers oft mistake the fiazne^ * 66S 
And give true piety that ochous name. 
To tremble, (as the creattiro of an hota 
Ought at the view of an t^nighty pow't,) 
Before his presence, at whose awfdl thfoine 
All tremble in dlU worldtfj except ottr oWii, CtlQ 

To supplicate his mercy, love his Wiiya, 
And prize thtnaft above pleasure, wedlh, 6t ftiSm^ 
Though eommott senses «^k>W*d at dsting Voice, 
And fipee from bias, mudt tLpprtitld the choiMj 
Convicts a man fitf^Ltick in th' extreme, (f^ 

And wild as mftdltess in the world'A eiteem. 



i4S C0NV£RSAT10N. 

But that disease, when soberly defin'd, 

is the falso firo of an overheated inind: 

It views the truth with a distorted eye, 

And either warps or lays it useless by; €7t 

*Tis narrow, selfish, arrogant, and draws 

Its sordid nourishment from roan's applanae , 

And while at heart sin unrelinquish'd lies, 

Presumes itself chief far'rite of the dues. > 

Tis such a liffat as putrefaction breeds 625 

In fly-blown flesh, whereon the maggot feeds, 

Shines in the dark, but usher'd into day. 

The stench remains, the lustre dies away. 

True bliss, if man may reach it, is compos'd 
Of hearts in union mutually discloe'd : 680 

And, farewell else all hope of*pure delight, 
Those hearts should be reclaimed, renewed, iqiright. 
Bad men, profaning friendship's hallowed name. 
Form, in its stead, a corenant of shame : 
A dark confederacy against the laws 68S 

Of virtue and religion's glorious cause : 
They build each other up with dreadful riuU, 
As bastions set point blank against God's will ; 
Enlarge and fortify the dread redoubt. 
Deeply resolved to shut a Saviour out ; €00 

Call legions up from Hell to back the deed, 
And, curs'd with cimquest, finally suGooed. 
But souls* that carry on a bless'd ^xcfaai^e 
Of joys they meet with in their heav'nly rang*^ 
And with a fearless confidence make known 609 

The sorrows sympathy esteems its own, 
Daily derive increasing light and force 
From such communion in their pleasant coune. 
Feel less the journey's roughness ana its length. 
Meet their o[^sers with united strength, TQf^ 

And, one in heart, in int'rest, and design, 
Gird up each other to the race divine. 

But Conversatitm, choose what theme w« maff 
And chiefly when religion leads the way, 



CONVERSATION. M3 

Should flow like waters after somraer riiow'n, 705 
Not as if rais'd by mere mechanick pow'w. 
The Christian, in whose soul, thongrh now diBtroM*d, 
Lives the dear thought of joys he oncepossess'dy 
When all his glowing language issued forth 
With God's deep stamp upon its current worOi, 710 
Will speak without disguise, and must impart, 
Sad as it is, his undissembling heart, 
Abhors constraint, and dares not feign a zeal, 
Or seem lo bdast a fire he does not feel. 
The song of Sion is a tasteless thing, 715 

Ifnless, wlien rising on a joyful wing. 
The soul can mix with the celestial bands, 
And give the strain the compass it demands. 

Strange tidings these to tell a worH who treat 
All but their own experience as deceit ! 720 

Will they believe, though credulous enough 
To swallow much upon much weaker proof^ 
That there are bless'd inhabitants on earth, 
Partakers of a new ethereal birth, 
Their hopes, desires, and purj^wes estranged 725 

From tilings terrestrial and divinely chang'd, 
Their very language of a kind that speaks 
The soul's sure int'rest in the good she seekn ; 
Who deal with Scripture, its importance felt 
As Tuily with philogophy once dealt, ^ 730 

And hi the silent watches of the night, 
And through the scenes of toil-renewing light, 
The social walk, or solitary ride. 
Keep still the dear companion at their side ? 
No— shame upon a self-disgracing age, 7:C. 

God's work may serve an ape upon a stage 
With such a jest, as iill'd with hellish glee 
Certain invisibles as shrewd as he ; 
But veneration or respect finds none, 
Save from the subject of tlmt work alono. 740 

The world grown old, her deep discernment shows, 
Claps spectacles on her sagacious nose, 



144 CONVERSATION. 

Pernsef cUmlj the true Cluristi^'s face, 

And finds it % mere mask of sly grimace } 

Usurpe Ood'i office, lays his boaoxn harei 7^ 

And finde hiypocrii^ close lurking there. 

And serring God herself through mere constraint. 

Concludes hi» itnieilgn'd love of him a feint. 

And yet God ksows, look human nature through, 

(And in due time the world shall know it tooj) 7^ 

That smce the flow'rs of £den felt the blast. 

That after man's defection laid all waste, ^ 

Sincerity towards the heart-searching God - 

Has made the new-bom creature her abode. 

Nor shall be Ibund m unrtgen'rate souls, 755 

Till the last fire burn ail between the polee, 

Sincerity ! why 'tis his only pride. 

Weak and imperfect in all grace beside ; 

He knows that God demands his heart entire, 

And gives hm aU his just demands require. 700 

Without it )m pr eteiuaons were as vain, 

As, having it, he deems the world's disdain , 

That great defect would cost him not alonp. 

Man's favourable judgment, but his own } 

I)is birthright shaken, and no longer clear 7G5 

Than while hi^ conduct proves his heart sincere. 

Retort the charge, and let the world be told 

She boasts a confidence she does not hold ; 

That, conscious of her crimes^.she feels inste^id 

A cold misgiving, and a killing dread : 770 

That while in health the ground of her support 

Is madly to forget that life is short ; 

That sick she trembles, knowing she must die, 

Her hope presumption, and her fiiith a lie ; 

That while she dotes, and dreams that she believes. 



She mocks her Maker, and herself deceives ; 

Her utmost reach historical assent, 

The doctrines warp'd to what tliey never meant ; 

That truth itself is in lier licad as dull 

And useless as a candle in a skull ; 



776 



780 



CONVERSATION. 145 

And all her love of God a groundless claim, 
A trick upon the canyass, painted flame. 
Tell her again, the sneer upon her &ce, 
And all her censures *of the work of grace, 
Are insincere, meant only to conceal • 786 

A dread she would not, yet is forc'd to feel ; 
That in her heart the Christian she reveres, 
And while she seems to scorn him, only fean. 

A poet does not worl^ by square or line. 
As smiths and joiners perfect a design ; WO 

At least we moderns, our attention less, 
Beyond the example of our sires digress. 
And claim a right to scamper and run wide, 
Wherever chance, caprice, or fancy guide. 
The world and i tbrtuitously met ; W6 

1 ow*d a trifle, and have paid the debt ; 
She did me wrong, I recompensM the deed, 
And having struck the balance, now proceed. 
Perhaps, however, as some years have-pass'd 
Since she and I convers'd together last, 800 

And I have livM recluse in rural-shades, 
Which seldom a distinct report pervades. 
Great changes and new manners have occurt'd, 
And bless'd reforms, that I have never heard, 
And she may now be as discreet and wise 805 

As once absurd in all discerning eyes. 
Sobriety, perhaps, may now be found 
Where once intoxication press'd the ground : 
The subtle and injurious may bo just, 
And he grown chaste that was the slave of hist ; 810 
Arts once esteemed may be with shame dismiss 'd ; 
Charity may relax the miser*s fist ; 
The gamester may have cast his cards *away, 
Forgot to curse and only kneel to pray. 
It has indeed been told me, (with what weight, 815 
How credibly, *tis hard for me to state,) 
That fables old, that seemed fbr ever mute, 
Reviv*d are hast'ning into fresh repute, 
Vol. I. 13 



146 



CONVERSATION. 



And gods and goddesses, discarded long 

Like useless lumber^ or a stroller's song, 820 

Are bringing into vogue their Iieathen train, 

And Jupiter bids fair to rule again ; 

That certain feasts are instituted now. 

Where Venus hears the lovers' tender vow ; 

That all Olympus through the country roves, 825 

To consecrate our few remaining groves ; 

And Echo learns politely to repeat 

The praise of names for ages obsolete ; 

That having proved the weakness, it should seem 

Of revelation's ineffectual beam, 830 

To bring the passions under sober sway, 

And give the moral springs their proper play, 

They mean to try what may at last be done, 

By stout substantial gods of wood and stone, 

And whether Roman rites may not produce 835 

The virtues of old Rome for English use. 

May such success attend the pious plan^ 

May Mercury once more embellish man, 

Grace him again with long forgotten arts, 

Reclaun his taste, an^, brighten up his parts^ 840 

Make Iiim athletick as in days of old, 

Leam'd at the bar, in the peloestra bold, 

D'vest the rougher sex of female airs, 

And teach the sofler not to oopy theirs : 

The change shall please, nor shall it matter aught 

Who works the wonder, if it be but wrought. 846 

*Tis time, however, if the case stand thus. 

For us plain folks, and all who side with us, 

To build our altar, confident and bold, 

And say as stem Elijah said of old, S50 

The strife now stands upon a fair award. 

If Israel's Lord be God, then serve the Lord 

If he be silent, faith is all a wliim. 

Then Baal is the God, and worship him. 

Digression is so much in modern use, 855 

Thought is BO rare, and fancy so profuse. 



CONVERSATION. 147 

Some never seem so wide of their intent, 

As when returning to the theme they meant ; 

As mendicants, whose business is to roam, 

Make every parish but their own their home. 860 

Though such continual zigzags in a book, 

Such drunken reelings have an awkward look, 

And I had rather creep to what is true, 

Than rove and stagger with no mark in view ; 

Tet to consult a little seem*d no crime, 866 

The freakish humour of the present time : 

But now to gather up what seems dispertVl, 

And touch the subject I desigif d at first, 

May prove, though much beside the ndes of art 

Best for the publick, and my wisest part. 870 

And first, let no man charge me, that I mean 

To clothe in «able ev'ry social scene, 

And give good company a. face severe, 

As if they met around a father's bier ; 

For tell some men, that pleasure all their bent, 875 

And laughter all their work, is life nuspent ; 

Their wisdom bursts into this sage reply. 

Then mirth is sin, and we should always cry. 

To find tho medium a^s some phare of wit. 

And therefore 'tis a mark fools never hit 860 

But though life's valley be a vale of tears, 

A brighter scene beyond that vale ^>pean, 

Whose glory with a light that never fades. 

Shoots between scatter'd rocks and op'ning dudlef, 

And while it ^ows the land the soul denies, 865 

The language of the land she seeke inspires. 

Thus touch'd, the tongue receives a sacred cure 

Of all that was absurd, profane, impure ; 

Held within modest bounds, the tide of speech 

Pursues the course that truth and nature teach f 800 

No longer labours merely to produce 

The pomp of sound or tinkle without use ; 

Where'er it winds, the salutary stream, 

Sprightly and fresh* enriches every tlieme, 



148 CONVERSATION. 

While all tlie happy man possessed before, 806 

The gill of nature or the classick store. 

Is mmde subservient to the grand design 

For which Heav n form'd the faculty divine. 

So, shoidd an idiot, while at largo he strays, 

Find the sweet lyre on which an artist plays, 900 

With rash and awkward force the chords he shakes, 

And grins with wonder at the jar he noakes ; 

But let the wise and well-instructed hand 

Once take the shell beneath his just command, 

In gentle sounds it soem'd as it complained 906 

Of the rude injuries it late sustained. 

Till tun'd at lengtli to some immortal song, 

It ■oiinds Jehovah's name, and pours Lis.prftbe aIoiii^. 



. RETIREMENT. 



iUJlorms ignobilis ott, 
^ , ViRG. Georg. Lil>. 4.^ 

HACKNET'D in business, weftried at that oar 
Which thousands, once fast chained to, qtut no i 
But which, when life at ebb runs weak and IoW| 
AU wish, or seem to wii^, thej could forego ; 
The statesman, lawyer, merchant, man of trade, 5 
Pants for the refuge of some rural shade, 
Where, all his long anxieties forgot 
Amid tJie charms of a sequester'd spot, 
Or recollected only to gild o'er, 
And add a smile to what was sweet befbre, 10 

He may possess-the joys he thinks he sees, 
Lay his old age upon the lap of ease, 
Improve the remnant of his wasted span. 
And, having liy*d a trifler, die a man. • 

Thus Conscience pleads her cause within the breast. 
Though long rebelled against, not 3ret suppressed, 16 
And calls a creature formed for. God alone. 
For Heay*n*s high purposes, and not his own,' 
^alls him away from selfish ends and aims. 
From what debilitates and what inflames, 20 

From cities humming with a restless crowd. 
Sordid as active, ignorant as loud, 
13* 



l&O AETIUEMENT. 

Whose highest pruse is tliat they live in Tain, 

The dupes of pleasure, or the slaves of gain. 

Where works of man are clustered close around, 2S 

And works of God are hardljr to be found. 

To regions where in spite of sin and wo, 

Traces of Eden are still seen below, 

Where moimtain) river, forest, field, andgrove, . 

Remind hhn t)f his Maker's power andH dve.) 30 

Tis well if, looked for at so late a day, 

In the last scene of sUch a senseless play, 

True wiscbm will attend his feeble call, 

And grace his action ere the curtain fall. 

Souls that have long despised their heavenly birth, 35 

Their wishes all Impregnated with earth, * 

For threescore years employed with ceaseless care 

In catching smoke and feeding upon- air. 

Conversant only with the ways dfmen. 

Rarely redeem the short remaining ten. -40 

Invet'rate habits, choke tli' unfruitful heart. 

Their fibres penetrate its tend'rcst part. 

And draining its nutritious pow'rs to feed 

Their noxious growth^ starve ev'ry better «eed. 

Happy, if fidl of days — ^but happier far, 45 

If, ere we yet discern life's evening star, 
' Sick of the service of a world that feeds 
Its patient drudges with dry chaffaod weeds, 
We can escape fi:om custom's idiot sway, 
To serve the Sovereign we were born t* obey. 50 

Then sweet to muse upon his skill display 'd, 
^'Infinite skill,) in all that he has made ! 
To trace in nature's most minute design 
The signature and^amp of pow'r divine, 
Contrivance intricate, express'd with ease, 55 

Where unassisted sight no beauty sees, ***; 

The shapely limb and lubricated joint. 
Within tiae small dimensions of a point, 
Muscle and nerve miraculously spun. 
His mighty work, who speaks and it is done, (50 



RETIREMENT. 151 

Th' Invisible in things scarce seen roToal'd, 
To whom an atom is an ample field ; 
To wonder at a thousand insect forms, 
■Theso hatched and those resuscitated worms. 
New life ordain*d and brighter scenes to irinure, 65 
Once prone on earth, now buoyant upon air, 
Whose shape would make them, had they bulk ' and 

size. 
More hideous foes thari fancy can devise ; 
With helmet heads^ and dragon scales adom'd, 
The mighty myriads, now securely scom^d, 70 

Would mock the majesty of man's high birth, 
Despise his bulwarks, and unpeople earth * 
Tiien with a glance of fancy to survey, 
Far as the faculty can stretch away. 
Ten thousand rivers poured at his command ' T5 

From urns that never fail, through evYy l«nd ; 
This like a deluge with impetuous force, 
Those winding modestly a silent cotirse ; 
The clond-surmoimting Alps, the fruitful vtdes ; 
Seas, on which ev*ry nation spreads hei^ saBs ; 80 

Tho sun, a world whence other worlds drink ligtit, 
Tho crescent moon, the diadem of night ; 
Stars countless, each in his appointed place 
Fast anchored in the deep abyss of space— 
At such a sight to catch the poetV fiamei • ^85 

And with a rapture like his own exclaim, 
These are thy gloriousworksy^thouflourceof good, 
How dimly seen, how faintly understood ! 
Thine, and upheld by thy paternal care, 
This universal fifame,- thus, wondrous fidr : 90 

Thy pow'r divine, and bounty beyond thought, 
Ador*d and prais*d inlUl that thou hast wrought 
Absorb'd in that immensity I see, 
I shrink abasM^ and yet aspire to thee ; 
Instruct me, guide me to that heavenly day, '96 

Thy words more clearly than't^y worfei disptay 



152 RETiaEMkCiNT 

That) while thy trutlis my grosser thou^rhto refiiw^ 

I may resemblo thee, and call thee mine. 

Oh blest proficiency ! supassing all 
That men erroneously their glory call, lOt 

The recompense that arts or arms can yield. 
The bar, the senate, or the tented field. 
Compared with this sublimest life below, 
Ye kings and rulers, what have courts to fhow ^ 
Thus studied, U8*d, and consecrated thus, 195 

On earth, what is, seems form'd indeed for us . 
Not as the plaything of a froward child, 
Fretful unless diverted and beguird. 
Much less to feed and fan the fatal fires 
Of pride, ambition, or impure desires ; 110 

But as a scale, by which the soul ascends 
From mighty means to more important ends, « 
Securely, though by steps but rarely trod. 
Mounts from inferiour beings up tp God, 
And sees, by no- fallacious light or dim, 115 

Earth made for man, and man himself for him. 

Not that I mean t* approve, or would enforce, 
A si^rstitious and monastick course : 
Truth is not local, God alike pervades 
And fills the world of traffick, and the shades, ISO 
And may be fear'd amidst the busiest scenes, 
Or scom'd where business never intervenes. 
But 'tis not easy with a mind like ours. 
Conscious of weakness in its noblest pow'rs, 
And in a world where other ills apart, 125 

The roviug eye misleads the careless heart. 
To limit Thought, by nature prone to stray 
Wherever freakish Fancy points the way ; , 

To bid the ];deadings of self-love be still. 
Resign our own, and seek our Maker's will ; KM) 

To spread the page of Scripture, and compare 
Our conduct with the laws engraven there ; 
To measure all that passes in the breast, 
Faithfully, fairly, by that sacred test 



KETIRKM^NT. 16JI 

To 4Iv^ into the secret deeps within, 135 

To spare no passion and no favorite sin, 
And searcA tlie themes important above all, 
Ourselves and our recov'ry from our fidL 
But leisure, silence, and a mind releas'd 
From anxious thoughts how wealth may be increas'd, 
How to secure, in some p^opitioxis hour, 41 

The point of interest or the post of pow'r, 
A soul serene, and lequally retir'd, 
From objects too much dreaded or desir'd, 
Safb from the clamours of perverse dispute, 145 

At least are friendly to the great pursuit. 

Op'ning the map of God's extensive plan, 
We find a little isle, this life of man ; 
Eternity's unknown expanse appears 
Circling aroimd and limiting his years. 150 

The busy race examine and explore 
Each creek and cavern of the dangVous shore, . 
With care collect wliat in their eyes e:ccels. 
Some shining pebbles, «nd some weeds and shells ', 
Thus laden, dream fhat they are rich and great, 155 
And happiest he that groans beneath his weighs : 
The waves overtake them in their serious play, 
And ev'ry hour sweep multitudes away ; 
They shrink and sink, survivors start and weep, 
Pursue their sport, and follow to tlie deep. IGO 

A few forsake the throng ; with lifted eyes 
Ask wealth of Heav'n, and gain a real prize — 
Truth, wisdom, grace, and peace like that above, 
Se^'d with his signet, whom they serve and love, 
Scom*d by the rest, with patient hope they wait 165 
A kind release from their imperfect state. 
And unregretted are soon snatch'd away 
From scenes of sorrow into glorious day. 

Now these alone prefer a life recluse, 
Who seek retirement for its proper use ; ITU 

The love of change, that lives in ev'ry breast. 
Genius and temper, and desire of rest. 



5^ R^ITIREMENT. 

Discordant motives in one centre moet, 

And each inclines its votary to retreat. 

Some minds by nature are averse to noise, - 175 

And hate the tumult half the world enjoys, 

The lure of av'rice, or the pompous prize. 

That courts display before ambitious eyes , 

The fruits that hang on pleasure's flow*ry stem, * 

Whatever enchants them, ar6 no snares to them. 180 

To them tho deep recess of dusky groves, 

Or forest, where the deer securely roves, 

The fall of waters, and the song of birds. 

And hills that echo to the distant herds. 

Are luxuries excelling all the glare 186 

The world can boast, and her chief fav'iites share 

With eager stop and carelessly array *d, • 

For such a cause tho poet seeks the shade ; 

From all he sees he catches new delight, 

Ploas'd Fancy claps her pipions at the sight ; ' 190 

The rising or the setting orb of day, 

The clouds that flit, or slowly float away. 

Nature in all the various shapes she wears, 

Frowning in storms, or breathing gentle aire, • 

The snowy robe her wintry state assumes, , 195 

Her summer heats, her fruits, and her porfmnes, 

All, all alike transport the glowmg bard, 

Success in rhyme his glory and reward. 

Nature ! whose Elysian scenes disclose 

His bright perfections, at whose word they rose, 200 

Next to that pow'r who fbrm'd thee and sustains, 

Be thou the great inspirer of my strains. 

Still as I touch the lyre, do thou expand 

Thy genuine charms, and guide an artless hand. 

That I may catch a fire but rarely known, 205 

Give useful light, though I should miss renown ; 

And poring on thy page, whose ev'ry line 

Bears proof of an intelligence divine, 

May feel a heart enrich'd by what it pays. 

That builds its glory on its Maker's praise. * 210 



^^^ ■T ^ ' Ji t* 



RETIREMENT. 195 

Wo to the man, whose wit disclaims its use, 
GUtt*ring in vain, or only to seduce, 
Who studies nature with a Wanton eye, 
/Admires the work, but slips the lesson by ; 
His hours of leisure and recess employs S15 

In drawing pictures of forbidden joys. 
Retires to blazon his own worthless name, 
Or shoot the careless with a surer aim. 

The loTer, too, shuns business and alarms, 
Tender idolater of absent charms. 220 

Saints ofier nothing' in their warmest pray'rs. 
That he devotes not with a zeal like theirs ; 
Tis consecration of his heart, soul, time. 
And ev'ry thought that wanders is a crime. 
hi sighs he worships his supremely fair, 22S> 

And weeps a sad libation in despair ; 
Adores a creature, and, devout in vain, 
Wins in return an answer of disdain. 
As woodbine weds the plant within her reach, 
Rough elm, or smooth-grain'd ash, or glossy beech, 
In spiral rings ascends the trunk, and lays 231 

Her golden tassels on the leafy sprays, 
But does a mischief while she lends a grace, 
Strait 'ning its growth by such a strict embrace ; 
So love, that clings around the noblest minds, 039 

Forbids th* advancement of tho soul he binds ; 
The snitor's air, indeed, he soon improves, 
And forms it to the taste of her ho loves. 
Teaches his eyes a language, and no less 
Refines his speech, and fashions his address ! 240 

, But farewell promises of happier fruits ; 
Manly dengns, and learning's grave pursuits ; 
Girt with a chain he cannot wish to break, 
His only bliss is sorrow for her sake , 
Who will may pant for glory and excel, 246 

Her smile his aim, all higher aims farewell ! 
Thyrsis, Alexb, or whatever name 
May least offend against so pure a flame, 



150 RETIREMENT 

Though sagre advice of friends the most sincere 
Sounds harshly in 9j delicate an car, 250 

V And lovers, of all creatures, tame or wild, 
Can least brook mana^ementi however mild, 
Tet let a poet, (poetry disarms 
The fiercest animals with magick charms,) 
Risk an mtrusion on tliy pensive mood, ~ 255 

And woo and win thee to tliy proper good. 
Pastoral images and still retreats. 
Umbrageous walks and solitary seats. 
Sweet birds in concert with harmonious streams, 
Sofl airs, nocturnal vigils, and day dreams, 2G0 

Are all enchantments in a case like thine. 
Conspire against thy peace with one design ; 
Sooth thee to make thee but a surer prey, 
And feed the fire that wastes thy powVs away : 
Up — God has fovm'd thee witli a wiser view^ 205 

Not to be led in chains, bu( to subdue ; 
Calls thee to cope with enemies, and first 
Points out a conflict with thyself, the worst. 
Woman, indeed, a gifl he would bestow 
When he design'd a Paradise below, 270 

The richest earthly boon his hands afford, 
Deserves to be belov'd, but not ador'd. 
Post away swiftly to more active scenes. 
Collect the scatter'd truths that study gleans, 
Mix with the world, but with its wiser part, 275 

No longer give an image all thine heart j 
Its empire is not hers, nor is it thine, 
'Tis God's just daim, prerogative divine. 

Virtuous and faithful Heherderiy whose s}ull 
Attempts no task it cannot well fulfil, 290 

Gives melancholy up to Nature's care, 
And send the patient into purer air. 
Look where he comes — in this embowerM alcove 
Stand close conceal'd, and see a statue move : 
Lids busy, and eyes fix'd, foot falling slow, SS$ 

Arms hanging idly down, hands clasp'd below. 



RETTIIEIV^ENT. 167 

Intof pret to the marking eye distress, 
Such 03 its symptoms can alone express. 
That ton^e is silent now ; that silent tongQCy 
Could argue once, could jest or jwn the song, S90 

Could ^va advice, could censure or commend, 
Or cjiarm the sorrows of a drooping friend. 
Renounced alike its office, and its qK>rt, 
Its brisker and its graver strains fall short ', 
Both fail beneath a fever's secret sway, 295 

And like a summer brook are pass'd away. 
This is a sight for pity' to peruse, 
Till she resemble feintly what she views, 
Till Sympathy contract a kindred pain, 
Pierc*d with the woes that she laments in vain. 300 
This, of all maladies that man infest. 
Claims most compassion,' and receives the least: 
Job felt it when he groan'd beneath the rod 
And the barb'd arrows of a frbwning God ; 
And such emollients as his friends could spare, 305 
Friends such as his for modern Jobs prepare. 
•Blessed, rather curs'd, with hearts that hover feel. 
Kept snug in caskets of close-hammer*d steel, 
With mouths made only to grin wide and eat,- 
, And minds that deem derided pain a treat, 310* 

With limbs of British oak, and nerves of wire, 
And wit that puppet-prompters might inspire. 
Their, sovereign nostrum is a clumsy joke. 
On pangs enforced with God's severest stroke. 
But with a soul, that ever felt the sting 315 

Of sorrow, sorrow is a sacred thing : 
Not to motest, or irritate, or raise 
A laugh at his expense, is slender praise : 
He that has not usurp'd the name of man. 
Does all, and deems too little all, he can, 320 

T' assuage the throbbings of the fester'd part, 
^nd stanch the bleedings of a broken heart* 
Tis not as heads that never ache suppose, 
Forgery of fancy, and a dream of woes ; 
Vol. I. 14 



158 RETIREMENT. 

Man 18 a harp) whose chords elude the sight, 32S 

Each yieldmg harmony disposed aright ; 

The screws reversed, (a task which if he please 

God in a moment executes with ease,) 

Ten thousand thousand springs at once go loose, 

Lost, till he tune them, all their power and use. 330 

Then neither heathy wilds, nor scenes as fail 

As ever recompensed the peasant^s care, 

Nor soft declivities with tufled hills. 

Nor view of waters turning busy mills. 

Parks in which Art preceptress Nature weds, 335 

Nor gardens interspersed with fiow*ry beds, 

Nor gaies, that catch the scent of blooming grovef. 

And waft it to the mourner as he roves, 

Can call up life into his faded eye. 

That passes all he sees unheeded by ; 340 

No wounds like .those a wounded spirit feels. 

No cure for such, till God, who makes them, heals. 

And thou, sad sufferer under nameless ill, 

That yields not to the touch of human skill, 

Improve tlie kind occasion, understand 345 . 

A Father's frown, and kiss his chast'ning hand. 

To tliee the day-spring and the blaze of noon. 

The purple evening and resplendent moon^ 

The stars that, sprinkled o'er the vault of night, 

Seem drops descending in a show'r of light, 350 

Shine not, or undesir'd and hated shine, 

Seen through the medium of a cloud like thine j 

Tet seek him, in liis favour life is found. 

All bliss beside a shadow or a sound ; 

TJien Heav'u eclips'd so long, and this dull earth, 355 

Shall seem to start into a second birth ; 

Nature, assuming a more lovely face. 

Borrowing a beauty from the works of grace, 

Shall be despis'd and overlooked no more, 

Shall fill thee with delights unfelt before, 360 

Impart to things inanimate a voice. 

And bids her mountains and her hills rejoice * 



tf^ 



R£TIR£M£NT. 159 

The sound i^l run along the winding vales, 
Ajgd thoa enjoy an Eden ere it fails. 

&e groTes> (the statesman at his desk ezclaimsi 96S 
6ick of a thousand disappointed aims,) 
M/ patrimonial treasure and my pride, 
Beneath your shades your gray possessor hide. 
Receive me languishing for that repose, 
The servant of the publick never knowi]^ 370 

Ye saw me once, (ah those regretted ^ays. 
When boyish innocence was all my praise !) 
Qour after hour delightfully allot 
To studies then familiar, since forgot. 
And cultivate a taste for ancient song, , 37& 

Catcliing its ardour as I mus'd along ; 
Nor seldom, as propitious Heav*n might send, 
What once I valued and could boast, a friend. 
Were witnesses how cordially I press'd 
His undissembling virtue to my breast ; 360 

Receive me now, not uncorrupt as then. 
Nor guiltless of corrupting other men, 
But vers'd in arts, that while they seem to stay 
A falling empire, hasten its decay, 
Tp the fair haven of my native home, 385, 

The wreck of what I was, fatigued I come ; 
For once I can approve the patriot's voice, 
And make the course he recommends my choice : 
We meet at last in one sincere desire. 
His wish and mine both prompt me to retire. 390 

Tis done— he steps into the welcome chaise, 
Lolls at his ease behind four handsome bays^ 
That whirl away from business and debate 
The disencumber'd Atlas of the state. 
Ask not the boy, who, when the breeze of mom 305 
First shakes the glitt'ring drops firom ev*ry thoniy , 
0nfolds his flock, then under bank or bush 
Siis linking cherry stones, or platting rush, 
How fair is freedom ! — he was always free * 
To carve his rustick name upon a tree, 400 



160 RETIREMENT 

To snare the mole, or with ill-fiishio^*d hook ^ 

To draw the iucauttous mifmow from the birool^ 

Are life's prime pleasures in his simple y^oWf 

His flock the chief cdncem he erer knew } 

She shines but little in his heedless oyes, * 40i 

The good we never miss we rarely priae : 

But ask tire noble dradge in state afikin^ 

Escap'd from office and its constant careS| 

What charms he sees in Freedom's smile MrpfiBi^ 

In Freedom lost so long, now repossess'd ; 416 

The tongue, whose strains were cogeM as eoHttiUiiif 

Rever'd at home, and felt in foreign lands, 

Shall own itself a stammerer in that eausei 

Or plead its silence as its best applause. 

He knows, indeed, that, whether dressed or ntAtf 410 

Wild without art, or artfUly subdu'd, 

Nature in ev'ry form inspires delight. 

But never mark'd her with so just a sight. 

Her hedge-row shrubs, a variegated store, * • 

With woodbine, and wild roses mantled o'er, 40^ 

Green balks and furrow'd lands, tlio stretuoy UtA 

spreads 
Its cooling vapour o*er the dewy meads, 
Downs, that almost escape th' inquiring eye. 
That molt and fade into the distant sky, 
Beauties he lately slighted as he pass'd, 499 

Seem all created since he travelled last. 
Master of ail th' enjoyments he designed. 
No rough annoyance rankling in his mind. 
What early philosophick hours he keeps. 
How regular liis meals, how sound he sleeps ! 430 

Not sounder he, that on the mednmast head, 
While morning kindles with a windy red. 
Begins a long look-out ^r distant land, 
Nor quits till evening %vatcH his giddy sta^^ 
Tlion, swifl descending with a seaman's haste^ "435' 
Slips to his hammock, and forgets tire blast. 



RETIREMENT. 161 

He chooses eompany, but not the squire'Si 
Whose wit is rudeness, whose good breeding tiros ; 
Nor jet the parson^ who would gladly come, 
Obsequious when abroad, though proud at home ;. 440 
Nor can he much afiect the neighb'ring peef. 
Whose toe of emulation treads -top near } 
But wisely seeks a more conyenient friend 
With whom, dismissing forms, he may unbend 
A man, wHom marks of condescending grace 445 

Teachy while they flatter him, his proper place , 
Who comes when called, and at a word withdraws, 
Speaks with reserve, and listens witli applause ; 
Some plain mechanick, who, without pretence 
To birth or wit, nor gives nor takes offence ; 450 

On whom he rests well pleas'd his weary powers. 
And talks and laughs away his vacant hours. 
The tide of life, swift always in its course, 
May run in cities with a bridier force. 
But no where with a current so serene, 455 

Or half so clear, as in the rural scene. 
Yet how fallacious is all eartiily bliss, .. 
What obvious truths the wisest heads may miss 
Some pleasures live a month, and some a year, 
But short the date of all wo gather here ; 460 

No happiness is felt, except the true, 
Tb&t does not charm the more for being new. 
This observation, as it chanc'd, not made, 
Or, if the thought occurred not duly weighed, 
He sighs — ^for, after all, by slow degrees 465 

The spot he lov*d has lost the pow*r to please 
To cross his ambling pony day by day. 
Seems at the best but dreaming life away ; 
The prospect, such as might enchant despairi 
He views it not, or sees no beauty there ; 470 

With aching heart, and discontented looks, ^ 

Returns at noon to billiards or to books, 
But feels, while grasping at his f9.ded joys, 
A secret thirst of his renoimc'd employs 

14- 



102 RETIREMENT. 

He chides the tardiness of ev*rj post, 436 

Pants to be told of battles won or lost. 

Blames ])is own indolence, observes, thod^b kiley 

Tis criminal to leave a unking state, * 

Flies to the levee, and, receiv*d with graOOy 

Knisels, kisses, hands, and shines again m pklc^ 4S^ 

Suburban villas, highwaj^ side retreats. 
That dread th' encroachment of our growini^#ftrjeM% 
Tight boxes neatly sash'd, and in a blassd 
With all a July sun's collected rays, 
Delight the citizen, who, gasping there, 46$ 

Breathes clouds of dust, auid calls it coutrtry air. 
O sweet retirement, who would balk the th4yii^^< 
That could afford retirement, or 6ould not P 
'Tis such an easy walk, so smooth and stradglit^ 
The second milestone fronts the garden g«te-; 490 
A step if fair, and if a show'r approach, 
Tou find safe shelter in the next stage ooathw 
There prison'd in a parlour snug and small. 
Like bottled wasps upon a sou^em wall, 
The man of business and his friends oompvessV}, 49& 
Forget their labours, and yet find no rest ; 
But still 'tis rural — ^trees are to be seen 
From ev'ry window, and the fields are gre&n ? ^ 
Ducks paddle in the pond before the door. 
And what could a remoter scene show iii&t0 ? 600 
A sense of elegance we rardy find 
The portion of a mean or vulgar mind, 
And ignorance of better things nu&es maH^ 
Who cannot nrach, rejoice in what he can ; 
And he that deems his leisure well bestow'd 60& 

In contemplation of a tumpiko road. 
Is occupied as well, employs his hours 
As wisely, and as much improves his pow'rsi 
As he tliat slumbers in pavilions grac'd 
Witli all the charms of an accomplish'd taslot 51ft 

Yet hence, alas ! insolvencies ; and hence 
The unpitied victim of ill-judg*d expense, 



rsrsajcai* 



RETIKEMENl'. 163 

From all his weansome engagemelitfl freed. 
Shakes hands with bwdiiete, and retires indeed. 

Tour prudent grandmammas, ye modem belles^ blBf 
Content with Bristol, BoUr, and Tonbridge wells^ 
When health reqnir'd it would eonsent to roaiB» 
Else more attach'd to pleamued Ibond at hone. 
But now alike, gay widow, virgin, wife, 
Ingenions todivensiff <fedl life, €00 

In coaches, chsuses, caraTans, and hoyS) 
Ry to the coast for dally, nightly joys, 
And all, impatient of dryland, agree ' 
With one consent to rash into the sea-* 
Ocean exhibits, fkthovnless and broad, 605 

Much of the pow*r and majesty of (JoiJ. 
He swathes about theswelfting of the deep. 
That shines afiid restrasinfkd'ts sn:^ andsleepr; 
Vast as it is, it answers as it 'flows 
The breathings of the lightest air that Mows; 839 
Curling ajid whitMteg over all th6 'v^aste. 
The rising wavfes obey th* increasmg blast, 
Abrupt aM h^trid'anthe tempest roars j 
Thundef and Hash ttpon the steadfkst shories, 
Till he that ri<lB8 the whitlwfaid, checks the reiay 635 
Then all the werld bf wiaters sleep again. — 
Kereids or Dryads, aisthe^hian leads> 
Now in the flocfdr, rfcW panting in the ntoadsy 
Vot'ries of pleastfre still, wherever she dweMs, 
Near barren rocks, in pakces, or celh^ 540 

O grant a p^tle^e id recommend, 
(A poet fi)tfd of Nature, and yonr friend,) 
Her slighted wbrfts to y<mr admiring view ; 
Her works must needs excel, who fkshi<m*d you. 
Would ye, when raiftbling in your morning ridCj 545 
With some unmeaiiirtg coxcomb at your side, 
Condemn the prattler fbt his idle pains. 
To waste unheard the miisfck of his strains. 
And, deaf to all th* impertinence of tongue. 
That, while it courts, affronts and does you wrong, 560^ 



ii== 



164 RETIREMENT. 

Mark woll tlie finished plan without a fault, 

The seas globose and huge, th* o*erarching Tftiiit, 

Earth*! milliona daily fed, a worid employ'd, 

In gath*ring plenty jret to be enjoy'd. 

Till gratitude grew roeal in the praise 556 

Of God beneficent in all his ways ; 

Grac'd with such wisdom, how woold beauty sbiae f 

Te want but that to seem indeed dlrine. 

Anticipated rents, and bills unpaid, 
Force many a shining youth into the shade, 560 

Not to redeem his time, but his estate, 
And play the fool, but at a cheaper rate. 
There, hid in loth*d obscurity, remoy*d 
From pleasures left, but nerer more beloy'd, 
He just endures, and with' a sickly spleen 565 

Sighs o*er the beauties of the charming scene ; 
Nature indeed looks prettily in rhyme ; 
Streams tinkle sweetly in poetick chime ; 
The warblings of the blac)d>ird, clear and strong, 
Are musical enough in Thomson*s song ; 570 

And Cobham*s groves, and '\^^d8or's green retreats. 
When Pope describes them, have a thousand sweets ; 
He Ukes the country, t»ut in truth must own, 
Most Ukes it, when he studies it in town. 

Poor Jack— no matter who— for when I blame, 575 
I pity, and must therefore sink the name, 
LivM in his saddle, lov*d the chace, the course. 
And always, ere he mounted, kiss*d his horse. 
The estate his sires had own'd in ancient years. 
Was quickly distanc'd, matched against a peer's. 580 
Jack vanish'd, was regretted and forgot ; 
*Tis wild good nature *8 never-failing lot. 
At length, when all had long supposed him dead. 
By cold submersion, razor, rope, or lead. 
My lord, alighting at his usual place, 585 

The Crown, took notice of an ostler's face. 
Jack knew his friend, but hop'd in that disguise 
Ho might escape the most observing eyes ; 






RETIREMENT.* 185 

And whisUing, as if unconcerned &nd gay. 
Curried his nag^and look'd another way. 500 

Convinc'd at laA, upon a nearer view, 
TiWui ho,' the sarnie, tho very Jack he knew, 
0*6Twhe1m'd at once with wonder, grief, and joy^ 
He press'd him much to quit his base ompk>y ; 
His counteiKUicd,. his pui^e, his heart, his hand> bOo 
Influence and pow'r, were all at his conmiaiid t 
Peers are not always generous as well-bred, 
But Granby was, meant truly what he said. 
Jack bow'd, and was oblig'd — con^ss'd 'ttras strange, 
That so retir'd he should not wish a chai^o, GOO 

But knew no medium between guzriing beer, 
And liis old stint — three thousand pounds a yetir* 

Thus some retire toi nourish hopeless wo : 
Some seeking happiness not found below ; 
Some to comply with humour, and a mind C05 

To social scenes by nature diftincUn'd ; 
Some sway'd by fashioui some hy deep disgust ; 
Some self-impoverish'd, ^d beo&use tljcy must y 
But few, that court Retirement, are aware 
Of half the toils they must encounter thc^e. CIO 

Lucrative offices are seldom lost 
For want of pow*rs proportioned to the post : 
Give e'en a dunce th' employment he dosirosy 
And he soon /inds the talents it requires ; 
A business with on income at its heels 615 

Furnishes always oil for its own wheels. 
Bat in his arduous enterprise to close 
HIk active years with indolent repose. 
Ho finds the labours of tliat state exceed 
tHi utmost faculties, severe indeed. 620 

*Tis easy to resign a toilsome place, 
But not to manago leisure With a grace ; 
Absence of occupation is not rest, 
A mind quite vacant is a mind distress*d. 
The vetVan steed, excus'd his task at length, 625 

In kind compassion of his failing streijgth, 



im RETIREMENT. 

And tum'd into the park or moad to graze, 

Exempt from future service all his days, 

Theie feels a pleasure perfect in its kind, 

Ranges at liberty, and snuffs the wind : 630 

But when his lord would quit the busy road, 

To taste a joy like that he had bestow'd. 

He proves, less happy than his fiivour'd bmte, 

A life of ease a difficult pursuit. 

Thought, to the man that never thinks, may seom iOS 

As natural as when asleep to dream ; 

But reveries, (for human minds will act,) 

Specious in show, impossible in fact. 

Those flimsy webs, that break as soon as wrought, 

Attain not to the dignity of thought : 6M 

Nor yet the swarms that occupy the brain. 

Where dreams of dress, intrigue, and pleasure reign; 

Nor such as useless conversation breeds. 

Or lust engenders, and indulgence feeds. 

Whence, and what are we f to what end ordain*d ? 645 

What means the drama by the world sustain'd ? 

Business or vain amusement, care or mirth, 

Divide the frail inhabitants of earth. 

Is duty a mere sport, of an employ ? 

Life an intrusted talent, or a toy f '€60 

Is there, as reason, conscience. Scripture say, 

Cause to provide for a great fiitUre day. 

When earth's assigned duration at an end, 

Man shall be summoned and the dead attend ? 

Tlie trunpet — will it sound ? the curtain rise ? €65 ' 

And show tlie august tribunal of the skies, ^ 

Where no prevarication shall avail, 

Where eloquence and artifice shall ftil> ^ 

The pride of arrogant distinctions fall, 

And cqnscience and our conduct judge us all ? 600 

Pardon me, ye that give the midnight oil 

To learned cares of philosophick toil. 

Though I revere your honourable names. 

Your useful labours and important aims. 






I- 



RETIREMENT. 167 

And hold the world indebted to your aid, 666 

Enrich'd with the discov'ries ye have made ; 
Tet let me stand ezcus'd, if I esteem 
A mind employed on so sublime a theme, 
Poshing her bold inquiry to the date 
* And outline of the present transient state, 67B 

And after poising her advent'rous wings. 
Settling at last upon eternal things. 
Far more intelligent, and better taught 
The strenuous use of profitable thought, 
Than ye, when happiest, and enlightened most, 675 
And highest in renown^ can justly boast. 
A mind unnerv*d, or indispos'd to bear 
The weight of subjects worldliest of her care. 
Whatever hopes a change of scene inspires. 
Must change her nature, or in vain retires. 960 

An idler is a watch that wants both hands ; 
As useless if it goes, as when it stands. 
Books, therefore, not the scandal of the shelves, 
In which lewd sensualists print out themselves ; 
Nor those in which the stage gives vice a blow, 685 
With what succ^bss let modem manners show ; 
Nor his, who, for the bane of thousands bom, 
Biiilt God a church, and laugh'd his word to teom, 
Skilful alike to seem devout and just. 
And stab religion with a sly side-thrust ; 600 

Nor those of learned philologists, who chase 
A panting syllable through time and space. 
Start it at home, and hunt it in the dark, 
To Gaol, to Greece, and iilto Noah's ark ; 
But such as learning without false pretence, 605 

The firiend of troth, th* associate of good sense. 
And such as, la the zeal of good design. 
Strong judgment laboring in thd Scripture minOi 
All such as manly and great souls produce. 
Worthy to live, and of etemal use ; 700 

Behold in these what leisure hours demand. 
Amusement and trae knowledge hand in hand. 



m RETIHEMENT. 

Luxury given the mind a childish cast, 

Audi while die p<^iabM, perverts the taste ; 

Habits of close attefitioB, thinking hoods, 70&' 

Become more mcefts 4i«Hpatioii spreads, 

Till authors hear nl length one gen'ral cry, 

Tickle and entMtain us, of we die. 

The loud demand, $rofn year to year the same. 

Beggars Invention, anti m^es Fancy lame ', 710 

Till farce itself most moumfmiy jejune, 

Calls for the kind assistance of a tune ; 

And novels, (witness ev^y month's review,) 

Belie their name, and <«^ nothing new. 

The mind, relaxing Into needful sport, 715 

Should turn to writers of an ahler sort, 

Whose wit well maaag^cl, and whose classiek styki| 

Give truth a lui^re, and make wisdom sirule. 

Friends, (for I cannot stint, as some have done, 

Too rigid in my view, that name to one ; 720 

Though one, I grant it, in the gen'rous brea^ 

Will stand advanced a step above the resi; 

Flow'rs by that name promiscuoualy we call. 

But one, the rose, the regent of thorn aU,)'*<^ 

Friends, not adopted with a schoolboy's haste, 796 

But chosen with a nice discerning taste, 

Well born, well disoipUn'd, who, plae'd apart 

From vulgar mind^ hate honour much at heait, 

And though the world may think the ingredients odd, 

I'he love of virtue, and the fear of God ! 730 

Such friends prevent whal els9 woM foon sqcse^d, 

A temper ru^iok as the life \re lead» 

And keep the pdWb of the mani^^s clean, 

As theirs who bustle in (ho husieot seeae l 

For solitude, h^wevetr some may raw, ^ 796 

Seemmg a. sanctuary, proves a graven 

A sepulchre, m which the living lie. 

Whore all good qualities grow sick and lUo. 



-rfj 



RETIREMENT. 160 

I praise tho Frenckmaa/ hit remark was ahcswd— * 
How sweet, how paasm^ sweet is aolitncb ! 940 

But j^rant me still a fiiend in my ratreat, 
Whom I may whisper— «olknd9 is sweet. 
Tet neither these ctelights, nor aof ht beside, 
^lat i^petlte can ask, or wealth provide, 
Can save us always from a tedious day, 745 

p.' Or shine the dnlness of still li£i away; 
Divine commnmon, cara&lly enjoyed. 
Or sought with enei;gy, must fin the voML 
O sacred art, to which alone Uh owes 
Its happiest seasons, and a peaceftil close ; 769 

Seom'd in a world, indebted to that scorn 
For evils daily felt, and har<Uy borne. 
Not knowing thee, we reap with bleo^g nands 
llow'rs of rank odonir upon thorny Iandi9, 
And whije Experience cautions ns in vain, 96S 

Grasp seeming happiness, and find it pain. 
Despondence, self-desertod in her griei^ 
Lost by abandoning^ her own r^ief, 
Mi^rmuring snd nngvatefiil discontent, 
That scorns afflictions merciftdly meant, 7$S 

Those humours tart as wine upon the firet, 
Which idleness and weariness beget ; 
These, and a thousand plagues, that haunt the breast, 
fVmd of the phantom of an earthly rest, 
Divine communion chases, as the day 765 

Drives to their dons th* obedient beasts of prey. 
See Judah;# |Mreniii'd kmg, berea of ill, 
Driv'n out an exile firom the fiice of Saul ; 
To distant caves the lonely wand'rer flies, 
To seek that peace a tyrants frown denies. '^> 

Hear the sweet accents of his tune Ail voice. 
Hear him, o'erwhelm'd with sorrow, yet rejmce ; 
No womanish or wailing grief has part. 
No, not a moment, in his royal heart ; 

* Bruy^re. 
Vol. I. ir» 



170 RETIREMENT. 

'Tis manly musick, such as martjrs make, 77B 

Saff 'ring with gladness for a Saviour's sake ; 

His soul exults, hope animates his lays, 

The sense of mercy kindles into praise. 

And wilds, familiar with a lion's roar, 

Ring with ocstatick soonds unheard before ; 980 

Tis love like his, that can alone defeat 

The foes of man, or make a desert sweet. 

Religion does not censure or exclude 
Unnumber'd {Measures harmlessly pursu'd ; 
To study culture, and with artful toil 78S 

To meliorate and tame the stubborn soil ; 
To give dissimilar, yet fruitful lands. 
The grain, or herb, or plant, that each dexnandi ; 
To cherish virtue in an humble state, , 
And share tlie joys your bounty may create ; 990 

To mark the matchless workings of the pow'r. 
That shuts within its seed the future flow'r, 
Bid those m elegance of form excel. 
In colour these, and those delight the smell , 
Sends nature forth, the daughter of the sine*, 99B 

To dance on earth, and charm all human eyee , 
To teach the canvass innocent deceit. 
Or lay the landscape on the snoM^ sheets 
Theso, these sre arts pursu'd without a crime, 
That leave no stain upon the wing of Time. 800 

Mo poetry, (or rather notes that aim 
Feebly pnd vainly at poetiok fiune,) 
Emplovfi. .shut out from more important viewi, 
Fast bv the banks of the sIow*winding Ouso | 
Content ifthus«f^uester'd I may raise 805 

A mnnitor*8 though not a poet's praise. 
And while I teach an art too little known, 
To close hfe wisely, may not waste my own 



THE YEARLY DISTRESS, 



« TITHUro TIMS AT STOCK, IV E88XX. 

VtTBOB addressed to a country clergyman, eomplainliig 
of the disagreeableness of the day annually appoint 
ed for receiyin^ the dues at the parsonage. 



COME, ponder well, for 'tis no Jost, 
To laugh it would be wrong, 

-The troubles of a worthy priest, " 
The burden of my song. 

The priest he merry is and blithe, 
Three quarters of the year, 

But, oh ! it cuU hhn like a sithe, 
When tithing time draws neai. 

He then is full of fHghts and &^t% 

As one at point to die, 
And long before the day appeals, 

He heaves lyi many a sigh. 

For then the farmers come, jog, jog, 

Along the miry road, 
Each heart as heavy as a log, 

To make their payments good. 



*«S: 



172 THE YEARLY DIStRESS. 

In soothy the Borrow of such diyi 

U iiojt to be expressed, 
When he that takes, and he that pay^ 

Are both alike distren'd. 

Now all unwelcome at hia gates 

The clumsy swains alight. 
With rueful feces and bald pate*-^ 

He trembles at the nghIL 

And well he may, for we]> he kiiowf 

Each bumpkin of the eian, 
Instead of paying what he owes, 

Will cheat mm if he ctttt. 4 

80 in they eomei — each makorhia leg. 

And flings his head before, 
And looks as if he came to bog, 

And not to quit a score. 

** And how does misff ahd madam do, 

« The little boy, and all ?" 
" All tight and well. And how do yon 

« Good Mr. Wliat-d'ye-call ?'• 

The dinner comes, and down they tH 
Wore e'er such hungry folk ? 

There's little talking, and no wit ; 
It is no time to joke. 

One wipes his nose upon his sleeve. 

One spits upon the floor. 
Yet not to give offence or grievOi 

Holds up the cloth before. 

The punch goes round, and they arc doll 

And lumpish still as over ; 
Ijike barrels with their bellies fbU| 

They only weigh the heavier. 



C3=» 




THE YEARLY DISTRESS. 
At lenfth the busy time bog^, 
** Come, neighbomri, we must wag — ** 
Tke money chinks, down drop their ehfaii| 
Each lajrging out his banf. 

One talks of mildew and of firost, 

And one of storms of hail. 
And one ^pigs, that he has lost 

By maggots at the taiL 

Qootlii €BM, '< A rarer man than yoit 

« In polpit none shall he«r i . 
** But yet, ipethinks, to tell you true, 

« You sell it plaguy dear." 

O why are farmers made so coarse 

Or clergy made so fine ? 
A kick that scarce would move a horM| 

May kill a sound divine. 

Then let the boobies stay at homft ; 
Twould cost him, I dare say, 

I trouble talung twice the sum 
Without the clowns that 



173 



(174) 

t 

SONNET 

▲DDRBssxiy to uj£VftY edyntkj xi^' 

On hit emplMittB«I and hili^eMbig' MMiifjt o€ ike 
defimce of Wanml flcurtixigtf, B^: in "ffi* 'Home of 
Lords. 



COWPER. whose silver yoice, taskM sbmetimioa hard 

Legends prolix delivers in tlie oars, 

(Attentive when thoa read'st,) of England^! peers, 
Let Torse at longUi yield thee thy just Toward. 

Thou wast not hea^d with drowsy disregard. 
Expending late on all that length of plea 
Thy gen*rou8 powers, bat idlence honour'd thee, 

Mnte as e'er gaz*d on orator or bard. 

Thou art not voice alone, hot hast beside 
Both heart and head ; and couldst with musick sweet 
Of Attick phrase and senatorial tone, 
Ijike thy renown'd forefathers, far and wide 
Thy &mo diffbse, prais'd not for utt'rance meet 
Of others spe^sh, but magick of thy own. 



(IK) 

LINES, 
ADDRESSED TO DR. DARWm, 
Anthot of << The Botanick Gaiden." 



TWO Poets •(pdetaby^wport, . 

Not oft BO well agreo,) 
Sweet hannoniete^l^Klan't cool! 

Conspire to honour Theeu 

They best can jodgfi a poet's worik 
Who oft themaelyes hare luKNiii 

The pangs of & poetick birth 
By labours of their own. 

We therefore pleas'd eztd thy Mug 
Though various yet complete^ 

Rich in embellishment as strong 
And learned as ^Us sweet. 

' NoenTymingleiwi^oitf pntey 
Though, covftdottr he^brti rephie 
At any poet's hapfner lays, 
They would— 4hey must at tfiin^ 

But we in mutual bondage hili* 

Of friendship's cloeest Me, 
Can gaxe on even Darwin'e wil 

With an unjaundio'd vy | 

And deem the Bard, wHoo'er he be. 

And howsoever known, 
Who would not twine ^ wreath for Thet, 

Unworthy of his owni. 

• Mttdinf /r ike pwein ky Mr. m^tt^; wMk - 
eompanied these Unes. 



It 



(176) 



MRS. MONTAOm FEATHER HAN& 
INGS. 



THE Birds put off their ey'iy hue. 
To dress a rodm for Montagu. 
y The Peacoak sends his hearenly dyes, 
' His rainbows and his starry eyes ; 

Tlie Pheasant plumes, which round infold 
His mantling neck witli downy gold ; 
The Cock his arch'd tail's azure show f 
. And, river-blanch 'd, the Swan his snow 
All tribes beside of Indian name, 
That glossy shine, or vivid flame, 
Where rises and whore, sets the da^, 
Whate'er they boost pf ric^ and gay, . 
Contribute to the gorgeous j>Un« 
Proud to advance it all they can. 
This plumage neither dashing show*r, 
Nor blasts that shrike the dripping bo^r. 
Shall drench- again or discompoM, 
But, screened from every storm that bloirv, 
It boasts a splendour ever new, • 
Safe with protecting Montagu. 

To this same patroness' resort, 
Secure of favour at her court, 
Strong Genius, from whose forge of thought 
Forms rise, to quick perfection wrought, 
Which^ though new-b<mi, with yigoor mOTB, 
Like Pallas springing arm'd from Jov»— 



ON MRS. MONTAGU'S HANGINGS. 177 

Imagination scattering round 
Wild roses over furrow'd ground. 
Which Labour of his frown begoilO| 
And teach Philosophy a smil^— 
Wit flashing on Religion's ude. 
Whose fires to sacred Truth applied| 
The gem, though luminous before, 
Obtjrudes on humi(in notice more. 
Like sunbeams on the golden helgkl 
Of some tall temple playing bright— 
WeU-tutor'd Learning, firom his bookf 
Dismiss'd with grave, not haughty, looki 
Their order on his shelves exact, 
Not more harmonious or compact 
Thfm that to whicli he keeps confin*^ 
The Tarious treasures of his mind^ 
All these to Montagu's repair, 
Ambitious pf a shelter ther^ t 
There Genius, Learning, Fancy, tVh, 
Their ruffled plumage calm refit, 
(For stormy troubles loudest roar 
Around their flight who Ughost mMji 
And in her eye, and by her aid. 
Shine safe without a fi»ar to Hide. 

She thus mamtite ^Md^vwnf 
With yon briglit regent of die dty 
The plume and poet b6&k, we kitoir^ ' 
Their lustre to Uii htllheiic<^ owe ; 
Apd she the woridr of PRiJ^tfs aidttliK 
Both poet saves and plume fiom fiiding. 



(178) 



VERSES 



Supposed to he written hy Alexander SeUtirkf during 
kit BolUary abode on the island ofJnamFemtmdcz. 



I. 

I AM monarch of all I survey, 
My right thore is none to dispute .; 

From the centre all round to the sea, 
I am lord of the fowl and the brute. 

Solitude ! where are the charms 
That sages have seen in thy face f 

Better dwell in the midst of alarms, * 
Than reign in this horrible place. 
IL 

1 am out of humanity's reach, 

I must finish my journey alone, . 
Never hear the s^^eet musick of qieeob^ 

I start at the found of ny owB. 
The beasts that roam oyer the pla«% 

My form with uidi£5»raice see ; 
They are so unacquainted with maiii 

Their tameneas is shocking to ne. 

in. 

Society, fiiendship, and love, 

Divinely bestowed upon nAn, 
O had I the wings of a dove. 

How soon would I taste you again ' 
My sorrows I then might assuage 

In the ways of religion and truth, 
Might learn firom the wisdom of ago. 

And be cheered by the sallies of youth 



VERSES Br ALEXANDER SELKIRK. 179 
IV. 
Religion ! what treasure untold 

Resides in that heavenly word ! 
More precious than silTer and gold. 

Or all that this earth can afford. 
But the sound of the church-gdng bell 

Tbeee'TaSAy? and rocks nerot hfrnti. 
Never sighed at the sound of a kneU, 

Or smil'd when a sahbath appeared 

V. 

Te vrinds that have made me your sport. 

Convey to this desolate shore 
Some cordial endearing report 

Of a land I shall visit no more. 
My friends, do they now and then send 

A wish or a thought after me ? 
O toll me I yet have a friend, 

Though a firlend I am never to see. 

VL 

How fleet b a glance of the mind ! 

Ck>mpar d with the speed of its flight. 
The tempest itself lags behind, 

And the swift-winged arrows of light. 
When I think of my own native land, 

In a moment I seem to bo there ; 
But, alas ! recollection at hand 

Soon hurries me back to despair. 

VIL 
But the sea-fowl is gome to her nest, 

The beast is laid down in his lair } 
Even here is a season of rest. 

And I to my cabin repair. 
There's mercy in every place, 

And mercy, encouraging thought 1 
Gives even afflicti<m a ^rjrace, 

And reconciles man to his k>t 



(180) 



OS %M9 FBpip9yjiCHI Of 



EDWARD THUSLOW, EBQL 
To tke Lord High ChanetOorMf of England. 



h 
ROUND Thurbw's I^ead, i^ w\f 70i4h| 

And in bis sportive day^. 
Fair Science pour'd the llgM of tni^ 

And Genius shed his rays 

See ! ^itn united wonder, cried 

Th* experienced and the sage, 
Ambition in a boy supplied 

With all the skiU of age! 
UI. 
Discernment, eloquence, and grac^, 

Proclaim him born to sway 
The balance in the highest placO| 

And bear the palm away. 
IV. 
The praise bestow'd was just aad wise f 

He sprang fanpetuous forth, 
Secure of oonqnest, where the i^riM 

Attends superiour worth. 
V. 
So the best courser on the plain 

Ere yet he starts is known, 
And does butat the gt^ obtain 

What all had deem'd his own* 



-i rry^V p- v-.Tnn?:^.,v--Z ~ 



(181) 



ODE TO PEACE. 



I. 

COME^ peace of mindy dtlt|^tfid goeetf 
Re^«ni and make thy downy aait 

Once more in this sad heart : 
Nor rickea I nor pow*r pntane, 
Nor hold forbidden joys in Tiew ^ 

We therefi>Fe need not part 

n. 

Where wilt thon dwefl, if not with me. 
From ay'rice and amtntioB fiw, - 

And pleasure'a &tal wiles ? 
For whom, alas ! dost thon prepai* 
The sweets that I was wont to shue^ 

The banquet of thy smiles ? 
HL 
The great, the gay, shall th^ partake, 
The Hear'n that thou alone canst mak« ? . 

And wilt thou quit the stream 
^ That murmurs through the dewy meady 
The grove and the sequester'd abed 

To be a guest with them ? 
IV. 
For thee I panted, thee I prii*d, 
For thee I gladly sacrificed 

Whate*er I loT*d before ; 
And shall I see thee start away^ 
And helpless, hopeless, hear thee sey^ 

Farewell ! we meet no more ' 
Vol. I - 10 



(182) 
HUMAN FRAILTY. 



1. 

WEAK and irresolute is man i 

Tlie purpose of to-day, 
Woven with pains into his plan, 

To-monow rends away. 

n. 

Tho bow well bent, and smart the spring, 

Vice seems already slain ; 
But Passion rudely snaps the string. 

And it revives again. 

m. 

Some foe to liis upright intent 

Finds out liis weaker part ; 
Virtue engages his assent, 

But PJeasuro wins his heart. 
IV. 
Tis hero the folly of the wise 

Tlirough all his heart we view ; 
And, while his tongue tho charge domes, 

His conscience owns it true. 
V. 
Bound on a voyage of awful lengfe 

And dangers little known, 
A stranger to supeiiour strength, 

Man vainly trusts his owil. 
VI. 
But oars alone can ne'er prevail, 

To reach the diatant coast ; 
The breath of Hcav'n must swell the sail, 

Or all the toil ia lost. 



(183) 



THE MODERN PATRIOT. 



I. 
REBELLION is my theme all day: 

I only wifih 'twould come, 
(As who knows but perhaps it may ?) 

A little nearer liome. 
II. 
Ton roaring boys, who rave and fight 

On t'other side th' Atlantick, 
I always held them in the right, . 

But most so when most frantick. 
III. 
When lawless mobs insult the court, 

That man shall be my toast, 
If breaking windows bo the sport. 

Who bravely breaks the most. 

But, O ! for him my fancy culls 

The choicest flow'rs she bearSi 
Who constitutionally pulls 

Your house about your ears. 
V. 
Such civil broils are my delight, 

Though some folks can't endure them, 
Who say the mob are mad outright, 

And that a rope must cure them. 
VJ. 
A rope ! I wish we patriots had 

Such strings for all who need *om— 
What ! hang a man for going mad I 

Then farewell British freedom. 



C184) 



0» ohsermng 90me Karnes tfliUlt noU rte^rded i 
the Biograpkia Brita n nic a , 



OH, fond attempt to give a deatUew hi 
To names ignoble, hotn to be forgot ! 
In vain, recorded in historick page. 
They court the notice of a future age * 
Those twinkling tiny lustres of the land 
Drop one by (me from Fame'^ neglecting hand 
Lethflean gulfs receive them as they iall. 
And dark oblivion soon absorbs them all. 

So when a child, as playful children use. 
Has burnt to tinder a stale lost year's news. 
The fliune extinct, he views the roving fire-^ 
There goes my lady, and there goes the squire. 
There goes the parson, oh illustrious spark! 
And there, scarce less illustrious, goes the clerk ^ 



REPORT 

€f mm adjudged Can, not to fte found in any qf •!• 
Sookt, 



I. 
BETWEEN Nose and Eyes a strange contMt troM 

The spectacles set them unhappily wrong ; 
The point in dispute was, as aU the world knows. 

To which the sud spectacles ought to belong. 



REPORT OF A LAW CASE. 185 

IL 

Sb Tongue was the lawyer, and argued the cause 
With a great deal of skill, and a wi^ full of loamingi 

While chief baron Ear sat to balance the laws, 
So fam'd for his talent in nicely discerning. 

m. 

In behalf of the Nose it will (JuicMy appear, 

And your lordship, he said, will undoubtedly find, 
That the Nose has had spectacles always in wear. 
Which amounts to possessicm time oat c^mind. 
IV. 
Then holding the spectacles up to the court. 
"^ Your lordship observes they are made with • 
straddle 
As wide as the ridge of the Nose is ', in short, 
Designed to sit close to it, just like a saddle. 
V. 
Again, would your lordship a moment suppose, 

(*Tis a case that has happened, and may be fljgain,) 
That the visage or countenance had not a Nose, 
Pray who would, or who could, wear spectacles then r 

vi. 

On the whole it appears, and my argument shows, 
With a reasoning the court wiH never condenm, 

That the spectacles plainly were made for the Nose 
And the Nose was as plainly intended £>r them. 

' vh. 

Then shifting his side, (as a lawyer knows now,) 

He pleaded again in behalf of the Eyes : 
But what wero his arguments few people know. 

For the court did not think they were equally wise 
VIII. 
So his lordship decreed, with a grave solemn tone, 

' Decisive and clear, without one if or but — 
That, whenever the Nose put his spectacles on, 

By day-light or candle-light — Eyes should be shut 
IC* 



(186) 



THE BURNINQ 

OF 

LORD HANSFIEUrS LIBRART, 

TOflXtBXB WITB HIS MtS. 

By the Mob, in the month of June, 1780 



I. 

So then— the Vandals of oar iaifty 
Sworn foes to lense and law, 

RaTe burhl to dust a nobler pilii 
Than evoi Roman saw ! 

n. 

And Murray sighs o*er Pope and Swidf 

And many a treasore mora, 
The well^judgod purchase andthe |pft« 

That grao'd his lettered store. 

in* 

Their pages mangled, burnt, and toni| 

The loss was hit alone ; 
B jt ages yet to come shall mouni 

The burning o^kis oiou 



-J 



(187) 



ON THE SAME. 



1. 

WflEn WH an4 <3«tiiHS meet tlnSr dwm 

In aU-devouhiu; flame, 
They tell ub of the fete of Rome, 

And bid ua fear the same. 

n. 

O'er Murray' $ low the muBOS wej)t, 

They felt the rude alann> 
Tet bleas'd the guardian care that kift 

Hia sacred head from harm. 

in. 

There mem'ry, l&e the bee, that'n fed 

Frwn Flora's baUny, atore, 
The quinteaseno© of ajl he road 

Had treasured up before. 
IV. 
The lawless herd, with fury bUnd, 

Have done lum cfuel wcong ; 
The flow'rs aw gone-hut stiU we find 

The honey on hia tongue. 



(188) 

THE 

LOVE OF THE WORLD REPROVED 

OR, HYPOCRISY DETECTED.* 



THUS says tho prophet of the Turk- 
Good musselmani abstain from pork ; 
There is a part in every ewino 
No friend or follower of mine 
May taste, whate'er his inolinationi 
Upon pain of excommunication. 
Such Mahomet's mysterious charfre, 
And thus he left the point at largo. 
Had he the sinful part expressed, 
They mighC with safety eat the rest ; 
But for one piece they thought it hard 
From the whole hog to be debarr'd ; 
And set their wit at work to find 
What joint the prophet had in mind. ' 
Much controversy straight arose, 
These choose the back, the belly those ; 
By some 'tis confidently said 
He meant not to forbid the head ; 
While others at that doctrine rail, 
And piously prefer the tail. 
Thus conscience freed from ev*ry clog, 
Mahometans eat up tho hog. 

• It may be proper to inform Ibe reader, that Uiis piece 
has already appeared in print, having found its way, tliougk 
with some unnecessary additions by an unknown hand, into 
M Leeds Journal, without the author's privity. 



J 



HYPOCRISY DETfcCTED a89 

You langh — 'tis well — ^The tale applied, 
May make you laugh on t'other side, 
Renoonce the world — the preacher cries ; 
We do — a multitnde replies. 
While one as innocent regards 
A mug and friendly game at cards ; 
And one, whatever you may say, 
Can see no evil in a play ; 
Borne love a concert or a race ; 
And others shooting, and the cliace, 
Revil'd and lov'd, renoune'd and follow'd, 
Thus, bit by bit, the world is swallow'd ; 
Each thinks his neighbour makes too firM, 
Yet likes a slice as well as he : 
With sophistry their sance they sweeten* 
Till quite from tail to snout 'tis eaten. 



ov 
THE DEATH OF 
MBS. (vow uii^r) rwBooKMonmi'B 
BULFINCH. 



YE nymphs ! if e'er your eyes wete TOi 
With -tears o'er hapless fav^itos shed 

O share Maria's grief ! 
Her fav'rite, even in has cage, 
(What will not hunger's cruel rage f) 

Assassin'd by a thief. 



190 LADY THROCKMORTONB BULFINCH. 
" WJiero Rhonus strays his vines among, 
The egg was laid from which he sprung ; 
And, though by nature mute, 
^ Or only with a whistle blest, 
^ Well taught he all the sounds express'd 
Of flagelet or flute. 

^ The honours of his ebon poll 

Were brighter Uiau the sleekest mol«, 
His bosom of the hue 
y With which Aurora docks the skiet 
When piping winds shall soon arise 
To sweep away the dew 

Above, below, in all the house, 
Dire foe alike ofjiird and mouse, 

No cat had leave to dwell ; 
And Bully 's cage supported stood 
On props of smooth-shaven wood. 

Large built and lattic'd well. 

Well lattic'd— but the grate, alas ! 
Not rough with wire of stool or brass, 

For Bully's plumage sake, 
But smooth with wands from Ouse*s side, 
With which, when neatly peal'd and dried, 

The swains their baskets make. 

Night veil'd the pole ; all secmM secure , 
When led by instinct, sharp and sure, 
Subsistence to provide, 
t A beast forth sallied on the scout, 

Long-back'd, long-tail'd, with whisker'd mom, 
And badger-colour 'd hide 

Ho, ent'rmg at the study door 
Its ample area 'gan explore 5 
And flomethmg in the wind 



THE ROSE 191 

Conj<H;lur'<}, mufUng ronnd and round) 
Better than all the books lie fouudy 
Food chiefly for the mmd. 

Just then, by adverse fate impressed, 
A dream disturbed poor Bully's rest ; 

In sleep he seem'd to view 
A rat fast clinging to the cage, 
And screaming at Uie sad presage. 

Awoke and found it true. 

For aided both by ear and scent, 
Right to hk mark the monster went— 

Ah muse ! forbear to speak 
Minute the horrors that ensu'd ; 
His teeth were strong, the cage was wood — 

He left poor Bully's beak. 

O had he mode that too his prey ; 
That beak, whence issu'd many a lay 

Of such mellifluous tone. 
Might have repaid him well I wote. 
For silencing so sweet a tlvroat, 

Fast stuck within his own. 

Maria weeps — the muses mourn — 
So when by Bacchanalians torn, 

On Thracean Hebrus* side, 
The tree-enchanter Orpheus fell. 
His head alone remained to tell 

The cruel death he died« 



THE ROSE. 

The Rose had been wash'd, just woah'd in a show'i 

Wliich Mary to Anna convoy 'd, 
The plentiful moisture encumber 'd tlio flow'r 

And wcigh'd down its beautiful h^nA, 



^ 



W THE DOVES. 

The cap wm «11 fill'd, tnd the leaves wore all wet, 
^ And it seem'd to a fimeiful yiow, 
To weep for the buda it hod left with reffrety 
On the flourishing bush where it grow 

I hastily seiz'd H, unfit as H was 
For a nosegaj, so dripping and drown*i^ 

And swinging it mdelji toe radely, alas I 
I snapp*d it-^t fell to the ground. 

And such, I exclaimed, is the pitiless part 

Some act by the delicate mind, 
Regardless of wringing and breaking a baait 

Already to sorrow resigned. 

Thb elegant rose, had I shaken it less, 
Might liave bIoom*d with its oiwner a while ; 

And the tear that is wip*d with a little address. 
May be followed perhaps by a smile ^ 



THE DOVES. 

I. 
REASONING at ey*ry step ho treads, 

Man yet mistakes his way, 
While meaner things, whom instinct leads, 

Are rarely known to stray* 
II. 
One nient eve I wandered late. 

And heard the voice of love : 
The turtle thus addressed her mate, 

And sooth'd the list'nuig dove • 



THE DOYBS. 
III. 
Our mutual bond of faith and troth, 

No time shall disengage, 
Those blessings of our early youth 
Shall cheer our latest age : 
IV. 
While innocence without disguisei 

And constancy sincere, 
Shall fill the circles of those eyes, 
And mine can read them there. 



193 



Those ills that wait on all below. 

Shall ne*er be felt by me, 
Or gently felt, and only so. 

As being shax*d with thea. 
VI. 
When lightnings flash among the tiMis 

Or kites are hov*ring near, 
I fear lest thee alone ^ey seize, 

And know no other fear.. 
VIL 
'TIS then I feel myself a m&f. 

And press thy wedded side, 
Resolved 9.mdon£6aa-d for H£^ 

DmiHh nevien sfaAU divide* 

vin. * 

Bat oh ! if ^kle and^unchaste, 

(Forgive a ttwufient thought,) 
Thou could become unkind at lart, 

And scorn thy present lot, 
IX. 
No need of lightnuige fironi on high» 

Or kites with eruel beak ; 
Deined th* endearments of thine eye, 

This widow'd heart would break 
Vol. I. 17 



194 A FABLE. 

X. 
Thus Bang the ewoot sequestered bird, 
'^ Soft as the passing wind. 
And I recorded what I heard, 
A loMon for mankind. 



A FABLE. 



A RAVEN, while with glossy brMsi 

Her new-hdd eggs she fondly prpsi^d, 

Andy on her wicker work high monntedf 

Her chickens prematurely counted, 

(A fiiult iihilosophcrs might blame 

If quite exempted from the same,) 

Enjoy'd at ease the genial day ; 

Twas April, as the bumpkins say. 

The legislature call'd it May. 

But suddenly a wind as high 

As ever swept a winter sky, 

Shook the young leaves about her ean. 

And fiird her with a thousand fears, 

Lest tlie rude blast slieuld cnap the bouglv 

And spread her golden hopes below. 

But just at eve the blowing weather, 

And all her fears were hushed together : 

And now, quoth poor unthinking Ralph, 

Tis over, and the brood is safe; 

(For ravens, though as birds of omen 

They teach both confrors and old women, 

To tell us what is to befall. 

Can't prophesy themselves at all ;) 

The morning came, wlien neighbour Hodge 

Who long had mark'd her airy lodge, 



A COMPARISON. ^9d 

And clMti]i*d all the treasure thera 
A glti to his expecting fair, 
CUnib'd like a sqoirrel to lib drey, 
And bore tlio worthlesa prize awajr* 



MORAL. 



Tia Providence alone aecorea 
In er'ry change both mine and yoon 
Safety consists not in escape 
From dangers of a frightful shape ; 
An e;irthquake may be bid to spare 
The man that's strangled by a hair. 
Fate steals along with silent tread. 
Found oft*nest in what least we dread. 
Frowns in the stonh with angry' brow, 
But in the sunshine strikes the blow. 




A COMPARISON. 



THE lapse of time and rivers is the same, 
Both speed tlioir journey with a restless strtam 
The silent pace with which they steal away. 
No wealth can bribe, no pray'rs persuade to stay 
Alike irrevocable both when past, 
And a wide ocean swallows both at last. 
Though each resemble each in ev'ry part, 
A diff*ience strikes at length the musing heart ; 



196 THE POET'S NEW YEAR'S GIFT. 

Stroams never flow in vain ; where itrMBviilwindf 
^ How lai^hs the land with lrarkittti^im9«inv<i*d< 
But time, that should endtih tto iibM«v MM^ 
Neglected loaves a dretO'j wwrte'^tf^ili 



ANOTHER. 

ADDRESSED TO ▲ TOUKG LADY. 

SWEET stream, that winds through yondet ghde, 
Apt emblem of a virtuous maid — 
Silent and chaste she steals along, 
■Far from the world's gay busy throng; 
With gentle, yet prevailing force. 
Intent npon her destined course ; 
Graceful and useinl all she does. 
Blessing and bless'd where'er she goes, 
Pnre-boflom'd as that wat'iy glass, 
And Heav'n reflected in her face. 



THE 

FOETUS NEW-YEAR'S QUPT^ 

■ to MIUI. (wow IkADv) THBOCEHORaKWI. 

MARIA ! I iiato ^v'r y good 

For thee wishM «iany a time. 
Both sad and in a cheerful mood, 

But never yet in rhyme. 



- OPE TO APOLLO. W 

. To wiflJi thee fiorer is no need. 
More prudent, or more vpnghilj, 
Or more ingenious, or more freed 
From temper flaws unsightly. 

What faTour then not yet possess'd 

Can I for thee require. 
In wedded lore already blest. 

To thy whole hearths desire ? 

None here Is happy but in part . 

Foil bliss is Miss divine : 
There dwells some wish in ey*ry heartf 

And doubtless one. in thine. 

That wish on some lair future day, 

Which Fate shall brightly gild, 
(Tis blameless, be it what it may,) 

I wish it all fulfill'd. 



1 



ODE TO APOLLO- 



On an Jnkglass almost dried m ik§ sum 

PATRON of all those luckless brains, 
That, to the wrong side leaning. 

Indite much metre with much paiasi 
And little or no meaning. 

And why, since oceans, rivers, streams, • 

That water all the natSons, 
Pay tribiUo to thy glorious beams. 

In constant exhalations \ 
17 • 



lOe PAIRING TIME AKTIGIFATED. 
Why, stooping from the noon of 4ij|[» 

Too coYttpus of drink, 
Apollo, hast thon itolhi away 

A poet's drop of ink i 

Upborne into the viewless air, 

It floats a vapour now, 
Impelled through regions ^leiiie laid nil*, 

By all the winds that hiew. * 

Ordain'd, perhaps, ere somm«r^&My 
Combin'd with mfllioM mote, 
1^ To form an Iris in the skits, 
Thoogh black and Ami befbM* 

niustrioos drop ! and happy Ihen 

Beyond the happiest lot, 
Of all that ever pass*d my patt. 

So soon to be forgot. 

Phodbus, if such be thy design, 

To place it in thy bow. 
Give wit, that what is left may shine 

With equal grace below. 



PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED. 

A FABLZ. 

I SHALL ikot ask Jean JttquiM lteiMfe«H* 
If birds confabulate or no ; 

* It waaoDe «f the whimsical ^pacuIaUoos of tbis,pHiloio> 
pher, that all fables, which ascribe reason and speech to ani* 
mab, dionld be withheld ftom children, as bein^only^ehides 
of deception. Bat what child was ever dece^Md brylWDi, or 
can be, against the evidence of his senses ? 



FJHRmO TIME ANTICIPATED. 
*n§ dear that they were always aUa 
To hold diacours^— at least in &ble } 
And e*en the diild who knows no bettar. 
Than to interpret by the Irtter, 
A story ofaiMM^Andball, 
Must have a roost uncoraoion sknlL 

It chano'd then on a water^s day, 
But warm, and bright, -aad csahn as Mtjf 
The birds, cono^rhig'a deei^ 
To forestafl swe«tSt. Valiii^M, 
In many an oMiiard, oepie, and gHtwe^ 
Assembed on stflhies df lore, 
And with mieio)i tw^^ter and mtich ohailat» 
Began toajghate the matter. 
At len^ m Mfinob, Who eonkt-bdait 
Man yeote «id wiedem than tiie moaly 
Entreated, op*tSnig wide his beaik, 
A mdmetit^ ittreMy to s|wak ; 
And, silence publickly ei^oin^ 
Delivered briefly tims his mind : 

My friends ! be cOiitioas how ye tM«t 
The subject upon which we meet ; 
I fear we shall have winter yet. 

A Finch, whose tdngue kliew no control. 
With golden wing, and satin poll, 
A4ast year's bird, whKv ne'er had iried 
What numrtage me«M, tlMM psart replied : 

Methittks the •gentlentti, 'qiioth>abey 
Oppose in the apple tree, 
By his good will would keep us nngle 
Tin yonder Heay'n and earth shall mingls 
Or, (which is likelier to befall,) 
Till death exterminate us all. 
I marry without more ado, 
My dear Dick Redcap, what say you f 

Dick heard, and tweedlin^, ogling, bridling, 
Taming short round, strutting, and sideling. 



1» 



(sB=3 



acK 



I PAIRING TIME ANTICIPATED. 
Attegtcd, glad, his approbotioa 
Of an immediate coDJogation^ 
Their aentiments, so well expreaa'di 
Inflncnc'd mightily the rest. 
All pair'd, and each pair built a neat. 

Bqt though the birds were thus in haste, 
The leaves came on not quite so ftst| 
And destiny, that semetimes bean 
An aspect stem on nian*s affairs^ 
Not altogether smird on theirs. 
The wmd of hie breath'd gei^y ibrth, 
Now shifted east, and east by north ; 
Bare trees and shrubs but ill, yon know« 
Could shelter them from rain or snow. 
Stepping into their nests, they paddled, 
Themselves were chilPd, their eggs were 
Soon ev*ry father bird and mother 
Grew quarrelsome, and peeked each other, 
Parted without the least regret, 
Except that they had never met ; 
And leani*d, in future, to be wis^r 
Than to neglect a good adviser. 



MORAL. 

MlsRs ! the tale that I rekts 
This leasoii seems to carry'^ 

Ghooee not alone a pn^r mate, 
But proper time, to many. 



^Sgssr i-Jl.j l 



T*IEIX>6 
Aath 
TSE WATER-LILY. 



THE noon was ithady, asid ttoit rnebt 

Swept Ouse*8 silent ttde, 
Wlien, iicftp'd from litetary Cam% 

1 wander'd on his Ado. 

My tpiaaki, ptviiwmt of ^^-raiMi, 

And high in pedi^rde,- 
(Two nymphs* adom'd WifhieT*iy;^ffl»9 

That spaniel foudd for rooi) 

Ifow wanton*d looliia^a^'aid !rM«b» 

Now stai^g into sighti 
Pnrsu'd the vwalknroWtJie mamim 

With scarce a slo#erfltglit 

It was the time when Onse dispby*d 

His lilies newly blown ; 
Their •beauties I intent surrey *d^ 

And one I wish'd my owti. 

With cane extended far I sought 

To steer it close to land; 
But still the pri^, though nearly cau^t. 

Escaped my eager hand. 

• Sir Robert Guonmg*s daughters. 



9Sg&^% 



202 THK POET. OYSTER, &c 

Beau marked my unsuccessful paini 

With fix*d considerate face, 
And puzzling set his puppy braini 

To comprehend the case. 

But with a chomp clear and strongi 

Dispersmg all his dream, 
I thence withdrew, and fbllow*d long 

The wmdin^rg of the stream. 

My ramble ended, I retum*d ; 

Beau trotting far beforO| 
The floating wreath again diacem'd. 

And plunging left the shore. 

I saw him with that lily cropped. 

Impatient swim to meet 
My quick approach, and soon he dropp'd 

The treasure at my feet. 

Charm'd with the sight, the world, I eried, 

Shall hear of this thy deed : 
My dog idiall mortify the pride 

Of man's superiour breed : 

But chief myself 1 wiU enjohi, 

Awake at duty's call, 
To show a lof« ai pronqit as thine, 

To him who gtves mealL. 



THE POET, THE OYSTER 

AKD 

SENSITIVE PLANT. 

AN Oyster, cast upon the shore, 
Was hoard, though never heard beforo^ 



^r^^ 



THE POET, OYSTER, Ac. 2(^ 

Complaining in a speech well woided. 
And worthy thus to bo recorded — 

Ahy hapless wroich ! condemned to dwell 
For ever in my native shell ; 
Ordain'd to uMve when others pleaao. 
Not for my own content or ease * 
But toBs'd, and hu&tted about, 
Now in the water, and now mii, 
Twore better to bo boma a stoae. 
Of ruder shape and leeliagr noiM, 
Tlian wj^ a tonderaess like mine. 
And sennbiHties 00 fkie I . 
I envy that unfeeling shrub, 
Fast rooted agjunst ev'ry rub. 
The plant he meant grew not far off. 
And felt the sneer with scorn enough j 
Was hurt, disgusted, mortified, 
And with asperity replied. 

Wh«i, cry the botanista, and stare, , 
Did plants call'd sensitive grow thero ^ 
No matter when— a poet's muse is. 
To make them grow just where she d^ooies 

Tou sliapeloss nothing in a dish, 
Tou that are but almost a fish, 
I scorn your coarse insinuatlni, 
And have'mott plentiful occasion, 
To wish myself the rock I view. 
Or such another dolt as you : 
For many a grave and learned clerk, 
A many a gay unlotter'd n^Nurk, 
With curious touch examines me, 
If I can feel as well as ho ; 
And when I bend, retire, and shrink, 
Says— Well, 'tis more tiian one would think ! 
Thns life is ttpeai, (oh fie upon*t }) 
In bemg touch*d, and crying — ^Don't ! 

A poet in hia ev'mng walk, 
O'erhoaid, and checked this idlo talk 



204 THE SHRUBBERY. 

And your fine sense, be said, and youcf^ 
Whatever evil it endures. 
Deserves not, if bo soon ofl^ded, 
Much to be pitied or commended. 
Dispates Plough shorty are ikr too lonj^ 
Where both alike are^ in<th« vrtong ; 
Tour feelings in their f«^ amount, 
Are all upon yomt own aeeoiuit. 

You, in jottr grotto work enclosed, 
Complain ofhtAug thus espps'd ; 
Yet nothing Ibel in that rough ooat^ 
Save when the knife is at your tfaM«^. 
Where'er driv*n by wind or tide. 
Exempt from ev'ry ill beside. 

And as for you, my Lady Sifyeamirit^ 
Who reckon ovVy touch -a blemish, 
If all the plants that can be found, 
Embellishing the sceno^aimiiid, 
Should drop and wither wher» th^»gf«ii;| 
You would not feel at^ alWnot you. 
The noblest minds their idrtue pniva- 
By P^* >yBipo^i uid love : 
These, thes» are feelings traly fine,, 
And prove their owner half divine* 

His censure r«aoh'd them as heda|]tiil^ 
And each by riirinking showed he felt it^ 



THE SHRUWRERTP.. 



WRITIWir m 4 TXl|;p OP IFFUPTipif. 

I. 

OH happy shadei*— ta me ui^lMt !> 
Friendly to peaee, but not to me !' 

How ill tho scene, tliat offers rest, 
And heart that cannot rest, agreo * ■ 



THE WINTER NOSEGAT 206 

"• 

This ghaay stream , that spreading^ pin* 

Those alders quivering to the breeze , 

Might sooth a soul less hurt than nuney 

And please, if any thing could please. 

m. 

Bat fiz*d, unalterable Care 

Foregoes not what she feels withis^ 
Shows the saaie sadness ev'ry wherei 

And slights, the season and the sosat- 
IV. 
For all thai pleased in wood or lawn, 

While peace possessed these silent bow^ 
Her animating smile withdrawn, 

Has lost its beauties and its pow>« 
V. 
^he saint or moralist should tread 

This moss-grown alley, mosing, slow ; 
They seek like me the secret shade, 

But not like me to nourish wo ! 
VI. 
Me irtdtful scenes and prospects waste 

Alike admonish not to roam ; 
These tell me of enjoyments past. 

And those of sorrows yet to come. 



THE WINTIJR NOSEGAY 

I. 
WHAT Nature alasl has dented 

To the delioaie growth of our istoi 
Art has in a measure supplied, 
And winter is dcck'd with a suule 
Vol. I 1ft 



806 MUTUAL FOHBEAlL\NCK. 

See, Mary, what beauties I bring 

From the shelter of that sunny shed. 
Where the flow'rs have the charms of the spnng^ 

Though abroad they are frozen and dead,' 

n. 

*Tis a bow'r of Arcadian sweets, 

Where Flora is still in her prime, 
A fortress to which she retreats 

From the cruel assaults of the clime 
While earth wears .a mantle of snow, 

Those pinks are as firesh and as gay 
As the fairest and sweetest, that bbw 

Oa the beautiful bosom of May 
III. 
See how they have safely surviy'd 

The irowns of a sky so severe ; • 
Such Mary's true love, that has liv*d 

Through many a turbulent year. 
Xhe charms of tbe late blowing rose 

Seem*d grac'd with a livelier hue, 
And the winter of sorrow best shows. 

The truth of a friend- such as you. 



MUTUAL FORBEARANCE 

NBCE88ART TO THE HAPPINESS OF THE MAKUIED 
STATE. 



THE Lady tiiiu address'd her sponse-i- 
What a mere dungeon is this house ! 
By no means large enough ; and was it,. 
Tot this dull room, and tliat dark closet 



MUTUAL FORBEARiVNCE. 207 

T^ose hangings with their worn out gracet, 
Long beards, long noses, and pale faces, 
Are such an antiquated scene, 
They overwhelm me with the spleen. 
Sir Humphrey, shooting in the dark, . 
Makes answer quite beside the mark : 
No doubt, my dear ; I bade him come, 
Engaged myself to be at home. 
And shall expect him at the door, 
Precisely when the clock strikes four. 

You are so deaf, the lady cried, 
(And rais'd her voice, and frown'd beside,) 
You are so sadly deaf, my dear. 
What shall I- do to malte you hear ? 

Dismiss poor Harry ! he replies ; 
Some people are more nice than wise. 
For one slight trespass all this stir ? 
What if he did ride whip and spur, 
'Twas but a mile — your fav'rite horso 
Will never look one hair the worse. 

Well, I protest 'tis past all bearing — 
Child ! I am rather hard of hearing — 
Yes, truly-— one must scream and bawl 
I tell you, you can't hear at all ! 
Thfen with a voice exceeding low, 
No matter if you hear or no. 

Alas ! and is domestick stife, 
That sorest ill of human life; 
A plague 90,littlQ to be fearM, 
As to be wantonly incurred, 
To gratify a fretful passion, • 
On ev*ry trivial provocation ? 
The kindest and the happiest pair 
Will find occasion to forbear ; 
And sometliing ev'ry day they livc^ • 
To pity, and, perhaps, forgive. *" 

But if infirmities, that fall 
In common to the lot of all, 



9)8 THE N£OROS COMPLAINT. 


" ■- j 


A blemish or a sonso unpair'dy 




Are crimes lo little to be ^&r*d, 




• Then farewell all, that must create 




The comfort of the wedded state; ' 




Instead of harmoBy, *tis jar, 




And tumult, and intestine war. 




The We that cheers life*s latest stag*^ 




Proof against sickness and old ^ye, 




Preserved by virtue from declensien, 


Becomes not weary pf attention ; 




But lives, when that exterionr g^rase, 




Which first inspir'd the flame, decays. 




*Tis gentle, delicate, and kind. 




To faults oomfMMsionate or blind, 




And will with sympathy endure 




Those evils, it would gladly cure : 




But angry, coarse, and harsh eiqiressiom, 




Shows love to be a mere profession ; 




Proves that the heart is none of hLi. 




Or soon ozpek bim if it a. 


» 


ncs. 




NEGRO'S COMPLAINT 








Afric's coast I lefl forlorn ; 




To increase a stranger's treasures, 




0*erthe raging billows borne. 




Men ^om England bought and sold me. 




Pwd my price in paltry gold ; 




But though slave tlicy have enrolled me, 




Minds are never to be sold 





THE NEGROS COMPLAINT. 20t 

Still in thought as flreo as ever. 

What are England's rights I a^, 
Me from my delights to sever, 

Mo to torture, me to task ? 
Fleecy locks and black coraplexion» 

Cannot forfeit Nature's claim ; 
Skins may differ, but afiection 

Dwells in white and black the i 



"Why did all-creating Nat^e 

M'ikQ the plant for which wo toil- 
Sighs most fan it, tears must water. 

Sweat of ours must dress the soil. 
'Think, ye .masters, iron-hearted, 

Lolling at your jovial boards ; 
Think how many backs have smarted 

For the sweets your cane affords. 

Is there, as ye sometimes tell us, 

Ji there one, who reigns on liigh ? 
Has he bid you buy and sell us. 

Speaking from his throne, the sky ? 
Ask him, if your knotted scourges^ 

Matches, blood-extorting screws, 
Are the means that duty urges 

Agents of his will to use ? 

Hark ! he answers-r^wifd tornadoes, 

Strewing yonder sea with wrecks ; 
Wasting towns, plantdtions, meadows. 

Are the voice with wliich he speaks. * 
He, foreseeing what vexations 

Afric's sons should undergo, 
Fix'd their tyrants' habitations 

Where his whirlwinds answer — No. 

By our blood in Afrio wasted, 
Ero our necks received the chain ; 

By the mis'ries that wo tasted. 
Crossing in your barks tho mahi , 
18* 



218 PITY FOR POOR Al- KIOANS. 

By our suff'nngs ainco ye brougkt us 
To the man-degrading mart ; 
All-8U8tain'd by patience, taught us 
Only by a broken heart ; 

Deem our nation brutes no lotigtsr, 

Till some reason ye shall find 
Worthier of regard, and stronger 

Than the colour of our kind. 
Slaves of gold, whose sordid dealings 

Tarnish bU your boasted pow'rs, . 
Prove that you have human feelings, 

£ro you proudly question ours ! 



PITY FOR POOR AFRICANS. 

Video meliora proboque, 
Beteriora sequor...^.. 

I OWN I am shock'd at the purchase of slaves, 

And fear those who buy them and sell th^iii ar« 

knaves; 
What I hear of their hardships, their (ortufvs, and 

groans, 
Is almost enosfh ta draw ^ty from i 



I pity them greatly — but I must bo mum— 
For how could we do without sugar and rumt 
Especially sugar, so needful we see ? 
What, give up iratr desserts, our coffee, and teai 

Besides, if we do, the French, Dutch* and Danes, 
Will heartily thank us, no doubt, for our pains : 
If wo do not buy the poor creatures, they will. 
And tortures and groans will be multiplied stiJl. 



.PITT FOR AFRICANS. 211 

If foreigner likewise would give up the trade, 
Much more in hehalf of your wiih might be said ; 
But, while thej get ridies by purchasing blaekii 
Pray t^U me why we may not also go snacks ? 

Tour scruples and arguments bring to my mind 
A story so pat, you may think it is coin*d 
On purpose to answer you out of my mint : 
But I can assure you I saw it in print r 

A youngster at school, more sedate than the rett. 
Had once his integrity put to the test ; 
His comrades had plotted an orchard to rob. 
And a8k*d him to go and assist in the job. 

He was shocked, nr, like yon, and answer*d — ^ Oh no ! 
What ! rob our good neighbour ! I pray you don't go ; 
Besides, the man's poor, his orchard's his bread. 
Then think of his children, for they must be fed ** 

" You speak very fine, and you look very grave, 
But apples we want, and apples well have ; 
If you will go with us, you diall have a share. 
If noty you shall have neither apple nor pear.** 

They spoke, and Tom ponder'd— << I see they will go ; 
Poor man ! what a pity to injure him so ! 
Poor nan ! I would save him his firult if I could 
But Btoying behind wOl do him no good. 

'^ If the matter depended alone fipon me, 
His apples might hang till they dropp'd from the tree ; 
But mnce they will taie them, I tlunk I'll go to, 
He will lose none by me, though I get a lew." 

His seniles thus silenc'd, Tom felt matp at ease, 
And went with his comrades the apples to seiae ; 
He blam'd and protested, but join 'd in die plan : 
He shar'd In the plunder, but pitied the man. 



TUiC 

MORNING DREAM. 



TWAS in the glad season of spring, 

Asleep at tbo dawn of tlic day, 
I drcam'd what 1 cannot hut sin^, 

So pleasant it sccni'd as T lay. 
I drcam'd, that on ocoan afloat, 
* Far henee to the westward I siiird, 
Whilo the billows high Ufted tlie boat, 

AimI the frosh-blowiiig breeze never fail'd 

In the steerage a woman I saw, 

Such at least was the form that she wore, 
Whoso beauty iniprcss'd mo with awe, 

Ne'er taught mc by v omuu before 
She sat, a»d a shich^at her side 

Shed light like a sun on the waves, 
And smiling divinely, sfee cried — 

" I go to make freemen of sUye*."— 

Then raising her vojicc to a strain 

The sweetest that car ever heard, 
She sung of the slave's broken chain, 

Wlierever ber glory «ppcar*d. 
Some clouds, which had over us hung 

Fled, chased by her melody clear', , 
And methought while she liberty sun/f, 

Twas liberty only to hear. 

Thus swiftly dividing the flood. 
To a filave-cultur'd island wo camo, 

Where a demon her enemy stood — 
Oppression his terrihTe nnnic. 



.t«E NIGHTINGALE AND GLOWWORM. «I3 

In his hand, as the sign of his sway, 
A scourge hung with hishes he bore, 

And stood looking out for his prey 
From Africa's sorrowful shore. 

fiat soon as approaching the land, 
• That goddess-like woman he view'd, 
The scourge he let ML from his hand, 

With blood of his subjects imbruU 
I saw him both sicken and die, 

And the moment tlie monster expiT'd, 
Heard shouts that ascended the sky, 

From thousands with rapture insplrM. 

Awaking, how ca^M I but muse 

At what such a dream should betiie *. 
But sooii my ear caught tiie glad nerwt, 

Which iervVi my weak thought Iblr a goid*^ 
That Britaattia, renowa'd o*er the w»t«i 

For the hatred ^o ever has i^ewn 
To the bkeki'scepter'd rulers of slaves, 

Resolves to haV» none of her owtt. 



NIGHTINGALE AND OLOW-HWENL 

A NIGHTINGALE, that all day long 
Had cheer'd.the viUage with his song. 
Nor yet at eve his note suspended. 
Nor yet when eventide was ended, 
Began to feel, as well he might, 
The keen demands of appetite ; 



214 THE NIGHTINGALE AND QLOW-WORai 

When looking eagerly around, 
He spied far off upon the ground, 
A sometliiiig shining iii the dark, 
And knew the glow-worm by his sparii ; 
So stooping down from hawthoryi top, 
He thought to put him in his crop. 
The worm aware of his intent, 
Harangu'd him thus right eloquent. - 

Did you admire my lamp, quoth ho. 
As much as I your minstrelsy, 
You would abhor to do me wrong. 
As much as I to spoil your song ; 
For 'twas the self-same pow'r divine 
Taught you to sing, and me to shine } 
That yon with musick, I with light. 
Might beautify and cheer the night ' 
The songster heard his sliort oration, 
And warbling out his approbation, 
Released him as my story tells. 
And found a supper somewhere else. 

Hence jarring sectaries may learn 
Their real int'rest to discern ; 
That brother should not war with broth^i 
And worry and devour each other ; 
But sing and shme by sweet consent. 
Till life's poor transient night is spent. 
Respecting in each other's case 
The gifts of nature and of grace. 

Those Christians best deserve the nftmei > 
Who studiously make peace their aim , 
Peace both the duty and the prize 
Of him that creeps, and him that flies 



C215) 



ON A GOLDFINCH, 



tTARTXD TO DZATH IH Hit CAQB 



1. 

TIME was wheji I was free as air. 
The thisUe's downy seed my fare, 

My drink the mornmg dew > 
I perch'd at will on ev'ry spray, 
My form genteel, my plumage gay, 

My strains for ever new. 
II. 
Bat gaudy plumage, sprightly strain, 
And form genteel, were all in vain. 

And of a tranaieni data ; ' 
For caught, and cag'd, and starv'd to death, 
In dying sighs my little breath 

Soon passed the wiry grate. 

lU. . , 

Thanks gentle swain, for ^11 my woQii 
And thanks for this eifectual close 

And cure of ev'ry ill ! 
More emelty could no^e express ; 
And I, if you had shown me loss, 

Had boon your pris'nor stilL 



(816) 
PINE-APPLE AND THE BEE. 



THE pino-apples in triple row, 
Were basking hot, and all in blow ; 
A beo of most discerning taste 
Poreeiv*d the fragrance as he pass\l, 
On eager wing the spoiler came. 
And 8earcli*d for crannies in the frame, 
Urg*d his attempt on ev'ry side, 
To ev*ry pane his tnink applied ; 
But still in vain, the frame was ttghtj 
And onlj pervious to the Kgbt ; 
Thus having wasted half the day, 
He trimm*d.his flight another way. 

Methiuks, 1 said, in thee I find . 
The sin and madness of mankisid* 
To joys foibidden man aspires^ 
Consumes his soul with vain desikros 'y 
Folly the spring of his pursuit. 
And disappointment all the firuit 
While Cjrnthio ogies, as nhe^passes^ 
The nymph between two chariot glasses, 
She is tiw pine-apple, and he 
The silly unntooeMfia beei. 
The maid, who views wiUi pensive^air 
The show-glass firau^t mik gUtt'itn^ waM% 
Sees watches, braaelet% liags, and loeketRi. 
But sighs at thought of empty pockets ; 
Like thine, her appetite is keen. 
But ah the cruel glass between. 

Our dear delights are ofleu such, 
fIzposM to view but not lo touch ; 



HORAUi:» BOOK H. ODE X. SI 

The sight oui foolish heart inflamefy 
We long for pi^e-«p|^es in frames ; 
"With hopeless wish one looks and lingeis ; 
One breaks the glass, and eats lus fingeit ; 
But they whem tmith and wisdom lead, 
CWgathef hoaey from a weed. 



nORACE. BOOK XL OSXR IL 



I. 
RECEIVE^ dear friend, the tmtha I tM^ 
80 shah then live beyond the teach 

Of adverse Fortune's pow'r ', 
Not always tempt the distant deep, 
Nor always timorously cre^ 

. Along the treoch'roos shore. 

n. 

He that holds fast the goldea mean, . 
And lives contentedly between . 

The little and the great. 
Feels not the wants that pinch the pooTy 
Ihx plagues, that haxuA the rich nuui*« dooTf 

Indiiitt'ring all his state, y 

m. / 

The tallest pine feels most the pow'r 
Of wintry blasts ; the loftiest tower 

Comes heaidest to the ground ; 
The bolts that spare the mountain's ikbi 
His cloud-capt ennnence divide, 
And spread iho ruin round. 
Vou I. 19 . 



218 A REFLECHOK, At. 

IV. 

The well-infenii'd philosopbw 
lUjtnces vrith. a wholesome fear, 

•And hopes m spite of pam ; 
If winter bellow from the north. 
Soon tlie sweet spring comes dxuncmg 

And nature laughs again. 
V. 
What if thine HeaT*nbe overcast, 
The dark appearance i^ill not last ; 

Expect a brighter sky. 
Thi God that striqgs the silVf r btyfTt . 
Awakes sometimes the muses too 

And lays his arrows by. 
VI. 
If hindrances obstmct thy way, 
Thy magnanimity display, 

And lot thy strength be seen ; 
But oh ! if Fortune fill thy sail 
With more than a propitious gale, 

Take half thy canvass in. 



A REFLECTION ON THE FOREGOING ODE 

AND is this all ? Can reason do no more, 
. Than bid me shun the deep, and dread the shorp, 
Sweet moralist ? afloat on life's rough sea. 
The Christian has an art unknown to thee. 
He holds no parley witli unmanly fears ; 
Where duty bids, he confidently steers, 
Faces a thousand dangers at her cah, 
And, trusting in his God, surmounts them aO. 



(219) 



TIIE LILY AND THE ROSE. 



- 1. 

THE Njrmph must loso her female fxiendi 

If more admlr'd than she— 
But where will fierce contention end, 

If flow'rs can disagree ? 
H. 
"Within the garden's peaceful scene 

Appeared two lovely foes, 
Aspiring to the rank of queen, 

The Lily and the Rose. 
III. 
The Rose soon reddened into rage, 

And swelling with disdain, 
Appoal'd to many a poet's page, 

To prove her right to reign. 

The Lily's height bespoke command, 

A fair imperial flow'r ; 
She seem'd design'd for Flora'8 hand. 

The sceptre of her pow'r. 
V. 
This civil bick'ring and debate 

The goddess chanc'd to hear, 
And flew to save, ere yet too late, 

The pride of the parterre $ 
VI. 
Toura is, rifo said, the nobler hue, 

And years the stateliei mien : 
And tin a third surpasses yon. 

Let eadi be deem'd a queen 



220 LILIUM ET ROSA. 

VII. 
Thus, sootli'd and reconcil'd, each seeks 

The fairest British fair, 
The seat of empire is her cheeks^ 
They reign united there. 



IDEM LATINE REDDITUM. 



• I. 

HEU inimicitias quoties park temula fofln», 

Quam raro pulchne pulchra placere potest ' 
Sed fines ultra solitos disoordia tendtt, 
. Cum flores ipsos hilis et ira mOYOnt. 

n. 

Hortus ubi dulces prisbet tacitosque recu«n% 
Se fapit in partes gens animosa duas ; 

Hie sibi regales Amaryllis Candida cultuSi 
Illic purpureo vindicat ore Rosa. 

ni. 

Ira Rosam et mentis quesita soperl^ tangimlt 

Multaqne ferventi vix cohibenda sinu, 
Dum sibi fautorum ciot undique nomina yatmii 

Jusque suum, multo carmine fbltai furobal. 
IV. 
Altior emicat ilia, et celso vertice tmtat^ 

Ceu flores inter non habitura paremy 
Fastiditque alios, et nata videtur in usih 

Imperii, sceptrum, Flora quod ipsfk^mlk 
V. 
Neo Dea non tonsil cItiILi miumara raHii 

Co! curiB est pictas pandere mris opss. 
Delieiasqne suasnunquam bob promptatlidt 

Dam Ueet et locus est, ut tueatv, ftdSfl. 



THE POPLAR FIELD. 221 

VI. 

£t tibi forma datur procerior omnibos, inqait i 

£t tibi, principibus qui solet esse, color ; 
£t donee yincat qusedam formosior ambas, 

£t tibi reginis nomen, et esto tibL 
VII. 
His ubi sedatua furor est, petit utraque nympham, 

Qualem inter Veneres An^Iia sola parit ; 
Hanc penes imperiiim est, nihil optaat ampUtti, Irajas 

Regnant in nitidis, et sine lite, genis. 



THE POPLAR FIELD 

THE poplars are felled, fareweU to the shade. 
And the whispering sound of the cool colonnade'; 
The winds pl^j no longer ami mng in the leaves, 
Nor Ouse on hia bosom their image receires. 

Twelve- years have elaps*d since I last took a view 
*Of my fav'rite field, and the bank where they grew. 
And now in thQ grass behold they as« laid. 
And the tree is my seat, that once leatm« a shad*. 

The blackbird has fled to another retreat, 
Where the hazels afford him a screen from the heat, 
And the seMie, where his melody charm'd me before^ 
Resounds with his sweet-flowing ditty bo more. 

My fugitive years are aU hasting away, 
Anj I must 6re long lie as lowly as they, 
Wtil ft turf on my breast, and a stona atn^ head^ 
Gre another such grove sludl arise in its stead 

^Hs a sight to engage me, if any thing can, 
To muse on the perishing pleasures of man t 
19 • 



3BE= 



892 IDEM LAI INE REDDITUM. 

Though his life be a drc.uii, his enjoyments, I IM^ 
Have a bein^r less durable ovon than he.* 



IDEM LATINE REDDITUM. 

POPULE^ cecidit gratissima copia silyse, . 
Conticuere susurri, omnisquc e;4uiuit umbra. 
NuIlflB jam levibus se miscent frondibus auitB, 
£t nulla in iluvio ramoflhfi ludit imago. 

Hei mihi ! Ins senos dum luctu torqueor annos, 
His cogor silvis suetoque carere recessu 
Cum sero rediens ; stratasque in gramine cemem^ 
Insedi arboribus, sub quels orrare solebam. 

Ah ubi nunc meruloB cantus ? Felieior illura 
Silva tegit, dure nondnm permissa bipenni ; 
Scilicet ezustos colles camposque patentes 
Odit, et indignans et non rediturus aMvit. 

Sod q\u suc^sas doleo snoeideff et ipde/ 
Et prhis httie par^tis quam cre^efit iiltera «llvllr 
Flebor, et, exequiis parvis donatus, hab^bo 
Defizum lapidem tumulique cubantis acervum. 

Tarn siibito periisse videns tam digfta nrtawft, 
Agnosoo hnmiHiM soiles «t tristia-isUt— 
Sit licet ipse brevis, volucriqufi simillimus ii^g;ilMnq^ 
Est homini breVior citiusque obitura yoluptas. 

* Hr <>owper afterwards altsred this last stMM lb i 
foHowiog manaer : 
The change both my heart and my fancy employs 
I reflect on the Jraiky of nuai, andbis jo^n; 
Short-liv'd as we are, yet our pleasures, we see^ 
Have a stifl shorter «iate, and die sooner than w«b 



^ 




O MATUTINl roreg, aurstiae salubrei, 
O nemora, et IstiB rivis felieibos herbe, 
Gramin«i coUes, et anxsno in vallitNUi waktm 1 
Fata modo dederint quae olim in mre paterno 
Deliciasi procnl.arte procul formidine noYi, 
Qnam vellem ignotus, quod mens mea semper ayebati 
Ante larem proprinm placidam expectare senectanii 
Tom demum* ezactis non infaiiciter annisy 
Sortiri taciturn lapidem, aut sub cespide condi l 



CICINDELA. 



BT TINCENT BOURNE. 



Sub sepe exiguum est, nee raro in margino rip«| 

Reptilo, quod lucct noctc, diequo latet. 
Vermis habet speciem, sed habet de bimine noineii# 

At prisca a foma non liquet, undo micet. 
Plerique a Cauda* crcdunt procedere lumen ', 

Neo desunt, credunt qui rutilare caput. 
Nam superas Stellas qune nox accendit, ot illi 

Parcami eadem lucem dat, moduloque paireita. 
Forwtan hoc prudens voinit Natura caveri, 

Ne pcde quis duro reptile contereret. 
Cxiguam, in tenebris ne grcssum oilbnderet tt1hlf| 

PrfBtendi voluit forsitan ilb. facem. 
Slve usum hunc Natura parens, seu mahiH Ulam, 

Baud frustra accensa est lux, r|Ldii4|ue ^ati. 
Ponite Yos fastiM) humiles noc epeniit«, imagtti ; 

^ando habet et minimum reptili^ quod nHeat. 



«2sac 



I THE GLOW-WORM. 

TRANSLATION Of THE FOREGOINO. 



I. 

BENEATH the hedge, or near the itreaoi 

A worm is known to stray, 
That shows by night a lucid beam; 

Which disappears by day. 
11. 
Disputes have been,'and still prevail, 

From whence his rays proceed ; 
Some give that honour to his tail, 

And others to his head. 
III. 
But this is sure — the hand of might, 

That kindles up the skies, 
Gives him a modicum of light 

Proportion'd to his size. 
IV. 
Perhaps indulgent Nature meant, 

By such a lamp bestow'd, . 
To bid the trav'ller, as he went. 

Be careful where he trod ; 
V. 
Nor crush a worm, whose useful light 

Might serve, however small^ 
80 show a stumbling stone by night. 

And save him from a fall. 
VI. 
Whate'er she meant, tnis truth divio* 

Is legible and plain, 
Tis pow> almighty bids him shine, 

lior bids him shine in viun. 



CORNICULA. 225 

VII 

*Te proud and wealthy, let this theme 

Teach humbler thoughts to you, 
Since such a reptile has its gem, 

And boasts its splendour too. 



CORNICULA- 
BY Tiircsirr boitshk. 

NI6RAS inter aves avis est, qns plunma tnrree 

Antiquos eedes, celsaque Fana celit. 
Nil tarn sublime est, quod non audace volatu, 

Aeriis 'spemens inferiora, petit. 
Quo nemo ascendat, cui non vertigo cerebrum 

Corripiat, certe hunc seligit iUa locum. 
Quo vix a terra tu suspicis absque tremore, 

Ilia metu ezpers incolumisque sedet. 
Lamina delubri supra fastigia, rentus • 

Qua cceli spiret de rogione, docet ; 
Hanc ea pros reliquis mavult, securi peri^, 

Nee curat, nedum cogitat, undo cadet. 
Res inde hiimanus, sedsummaper etia, sp«(5tal, 

£t nihil ad sese, quos videt, esse videt. 
Concursus epectat, ploteaque negotia m omm, 

Omnia pro nugis at sapienter habef. ♦ 
Clam ores, quas infra audit, ^ forsitan audit. 

Pro rebus nihHi negligit, et crociljat. 
llle tibi invidcQil^ ^lix Copnieul^, j 

Qui sic humanis reb^Me vsilit 



(220) 
II. THE JACKDAW. 

TRAHSLATION OF THE FORES OIV0. 



I. 

THERE b a bird who by hb coat. 
And by tlte hoarseness of his noiiBf 

Might be suj^Ms'd a. crow ; 
A great frequenter of the church. 
Where bishop-like he finds a perch. 

And dormitory too. 

n. 

Above the steeple shines a plate, 
That turns and turns to indicate 

From what point blows the weather } 
Look up— yovr brains begin to swinif 
Tis in the clouds — ^that pleases hiiBf 

Ho chooses it the rather. 

in. 

Fond of the speculative heighti 
Thither he wings his airy flighty 

And thence securely sees 
The bustle of the raree showi 
That occupy mankind beloWy 

Secure %nd at his ease. 
IV. 
Ton think, no doubt, he sits andmiiiet 
On future broken bones and bmiseiy 

If he should chance to falL 
No : not a single thought like tbili 
» Employs his philosophick pate. 

Or troubles it at all 



AD GRILLUM. 227 

V. 

He fees, that tMs great rouBdaboiit, 
The world, with all its rootloj root. 

Church, army, phyeiek, law. 
Its customs, and its businesses, 
Is no concern at all of his, 

And says — ^what says he ?— Cair. 
VI. 
Thrice happy bird ! I too have seen 
Much of the vanities of men ; 

And, sick of having seen 'em, 
Would cheerfully these limbs resigs 
For such a pair of win^ as thine, 

And such & head between 'em. 



AD GRILXUM 

▲VACRBONTICUM.' 
BY TUICXIIT BOV«iri« 

O QUI me* culin» 
ArifutahM cboraulet, 
£t Jiospes es cakunrus, 
Quiumnquo conunorertf 
Felicitatis omen ; 
Jucundiore cantu 
Siquando mo salutes^ 
£t ipse te ropendam, 
£t ipso, qua valobo, 
Remunerabo musa. ' 





. . ^ 

J 
* 


ttU AD GRILLUM. 




n. 




Dicerii innoceiiiqne 




Et gnixiB inquiliniui ; 




Neo Tjotitaos raimiJi, 




Vi florices roraces, 




Muresve eariosi, 




Vulgui doDiMticonifli i 






Sed tutus in caraini 




Recessibus, quiete^ 




Contentus et calore. 




ra. 




Befttior Cicsda, 




Qutt te referro fonntt^ 




Qu89 voce te videtur ; 




Et laltitans per herbal, "* 




Unius, baud secundro, 




JEstatis est chorista ; 




Tu carmen integratum. 








Lietus per universum 




Incontinenter annom. - 




IV. 




Te nulla Inz relinquit, 




Te nulla nox revisit, 




Non mosioe vaeaateii^ 




Curisve non solutum : 




Quin amplies canendo. 




Quin ompUes iHMiido, 




iEUtvtam, Tel oamir 















(8») 
in. THE CRICKET. 

TBANtLATIOV OW TfIB r0BB6Oni«« 



L 

iJTTLB inomte, full of mirUii 
Chirping on my kitchen hearth, 
Wheresoe'*? bo thine abodoy 
Always harbinger of good, 
Pay me for thy warm retreat 
With a long moro soil and«Mroi4 * 
In rotiun thou ahalt receive 
Sneh a it^rain a^i I can give. 

11. 
Thus thy piaine «baU be expre«i'4, 
Inoffenaiv9y welcpme guest ! 
While the r9t 19 on th^ ecout, 
And the moniie w)th curioui QDoml, 
WUb whtA Wfmm else infest 
Ev'iy iUAt end fpoil the be^ i 
Frisldng ti^m faiefqre the lire, 
Tbon hast nU t^e heart's desire. 

in. 

Though in voice and shape they be 
Form'd as if akin to thee, 
ThoirsDrpassest, h^pier far, 
Happiest grasshoppers that ore : 
Theirs is but a summer's ntrng: 
Thine endures tlie winter Ion?. 
Unimpair'd, and shrill and I'loar, 
Melody thtonghout the y»;ai* 



830 SIMILE AOIT IN SIMILE. 

IV. 
Neither night, nor dawn of day, 
Puts a pliriod to thy play ; 
Sing thon-*«uid extend thy spaa 
Far beyond tlie date of man. 
Wretched man whose years are spent 
In repining discontent, 
Lives not, aged though he be, 
Haifa span compar*d with thee. 



SIMILE AGIT m SIMILE 

BY VINCENT BOURNE. 

CRIST ATUS, pictisque ad Thaida Psittacns aliiy 

Missus ab Eod miinus amanto vonit. 
Ancillis mahdat primom formare loquelam, 

ArchididascaliiB dat sibi Thais opus. 
Psittace, ait Thais, fingitque sonantia moUo 

Basia, quoB docilis moUe tedngit avis. 
Jam captat, jam dimidiat tyrunculis ; et jam 

Integral auditos articulatque sonos; 
Psittace mi pulcher pulchelle, hera dieit alumno ; 

Psittace mi pulchcr, reddit alumnus herie. 
Jamque canit, ridot, deciesque sagrotat in hora, 

Et vocat ancillas nomine quamque sue 
Multaque scurratur mendax, et multa joeatnr, 

Et lepido popiiilum detinet augurio. 
Nunc tremulum illudet fratrem, qui suspicit, et Pd 

Carnalis, quisquis te docet, inquit, homo est ; 
ArguttB nunc stridct anus argutulus im^r j 

Respicit, et ncbulo es, quisquis es, iiiquit anus. 
Quando fuit melior tyro, meliorve magistra ! 

Quando duo in,^eniis tam ootcrp pares ' 
Ardna discenti nulla est, res nulla docenti 

Ardua ; cum dcroat. f<nmina, discit avis 



HISTORY OF JOHN Gn4Pni. 233 

n. 

Ad flpecolum ornabat nitidos Bi^hella crinas, 
Cum dixit mea lux, heus, oane, sumo lyram. 

Namque Ijram juxta positam cum eamune vidit 
Suave quidem carmen dulcisonamque lyram. 

iri. 

Fila lyrsB yocemque paro, suspina snrgunt, 

£t miscent numeris murmora mssta tnein 
Dumque tute memoro laudes, Euphelia, formm, 

Tota anima interea pendet ab ore Chloen 
IV. 
Sobrubet iUa pudore, et contrahit altera frontem 

Me torquet mea mens conscia, psallo, tremo i 
Atque Cupidinca, dixit Dea cincta corona, 

Hen ! fkllendl artem quam didicere panim. 



THE DIVERTINO HISTORY 

OF 

JOHN GILPIN ; 

Showing Itow Ite went further tlutn he intended^ and 
eame safe lutme again. 



JOHN GILPIN was a citkcn 

Of credit and renown, 
A trainband captain eke was he 

Of famous London town. 

John Gilpm*^ s^use said to her dear, 
^ Though wedded we have been 
Tnese twice ten tedious years, yet Wtt 
No holy-day have seen. '^ 
20« 



^i^C 



CS4 HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN 

^ To-morrow is our wedding-day, 

And wo will then repair 

Unto th« beQ at Edmontoa, 

All in a chaise and pur. 

My sister, and my sister's child. 

Myself, and children three, 
WIU fill ilia chaise ; so yon must rid* 

On horseback after we. ^ 

H^fioon replied, I do admire 

Of womankind but one, 
And you are she, my dearest dtsw, 

Therefore it shall be done. 

V^ I am a Knen-draper bold, 

As all the world doth know, 

And my good friend the calender 

Will lend his horso to go.*^ 

Quoth Mrs. Gilpin, that's well said, 

And for that wine is dear, 
We will be fumisli'd with our own^ 

Which is both bright and clear. ^ 

John Gilpin kiss'd his loving wife ; 

O'erjoy'd was he to find, 
That tliouorh on pleasure she was bent. 

She had a frugal mind. 

The morning came, the chaise was bronghty 

But yet wia not allow'd 
To drive up to the aoor, lest all 

Should say l^t ^lie was proud. 

So thr«e ^rs off the chaise was stmj'd. 

Where they did all get in ; 
Six precious souls, and all agog 

To dash through thick and thin. 



HKrroRjr of john gilpin. 235 

B whip, round wont the wh^flig, 

Were i6or folk so glad ; 
The sMes ted rattle underneath, 
Aeof Cheapeide were mad. 

John Gilpin at his horse's side 

8eiz*d fast the flowing: mane, 
And np he got, in haste to ride, 

But soon came down again ; 

For saddle-tree searoe reached had he^ 

His journey td begin. 
When turning round Mm head, lie mm 

Three customers come in. 

So down he came ; for loss of time 

Although it grier'd him scMre, 
Yet^lpss of pence, fall well heiaewi 

Would trouble him much mete. 

Twas long before the cnstomepi , 

Were suited to their mind, 
When Betty screaming came dowm 

^ The wme is lefiJifihindr 

Good kck f^^oth he-iyet brm^ it i 

My leathern belt likewise, 
In which I bear my tnis^y gmntdp 

When I do ezercim. ^ 



Now tidtfynm Gj^in« (carefid eosl !> 
Had two stone bottles feond. 

To hdd the Uqasr that Am lov'd^ 
And keep it safe and aomd. 



Eaeh bottla had a mtffing ear. 
Through whida the belt he 

And hnng a bottle ea each aidoi 
To make his balance true. 



HISTORY I' 



2:iC 

< Then over ill, iJmi 



JOHN (IILPIN. 

mifrht be 
Equijjp'd from top to toe, 
His loiijx rr.d cloak, woll bnish*d aod nesk 
» lie manfully tli«J threw. 

Now sec liim mounted onco agoia 

Upon ilia ulmblb steed, 
Full sluwly parinfr o'er tho stonoff, 

Witli caution and good heed. 

But findint^soon a smoother road 

Beneath his wt'll shod feet, 
Tho snorting beast hej^an to trot, 

AVhich gaird him in his seat. 

So fiiir and softly, John ho cried, 

But John he cried in vain. 
That trot became a gallop soon, 

In spite of curb and rein. 

So stoojjinj^ doiyn, as needs/Iie must 

Who Ounnot sit upright^ 
Ho graspY tho mano wUii both his li«]id% 

/. id eko^with all hi*4iight. 

His horso, v^o netor in that sort 

Had handled been before, 
Wliat thing upon liis back had got 

Did wonder more and more. 

Away went Gilpin, neck or naught ; 

Away went hat and wig ; 
He Uttlo dreamt when ho sot out, 

Of ninning such a rig. 

Tho wind did blow, the cloak did fly, 

Liko streamer long and gay, 
Till, loop and button failing both, 

At last it flew away. 



HISTORY OF JOHN GU^PIN. 237 

Then might all people well diieeni 

The bottles he had eliiiig ; 
A bottle swmging at each nde, 

As hath been said or simg. 

The dogs did baik, the children seiem^, 

Up flew the windows all ; 
And ev'rv sotfl cried ottty'Ven donelf 

As lood as he conM baid. 

Awaj #ent Gilpin— who bat hd f 
^ Uk fame soon spread aroond, 

He carries weight ! he rides a nee ! ^\^ 
Tisfor a thousand pound /^ 

And sUn, as fast as lie drew near, 

Twas wonderful to view, 
How in a trice the turnpike men 

Their gates wide open threw. 




>'s fiadcs to stnoke 



But still he seem'd to carry wei|^ 
I With leathern girdle brac*d; 
\For all might see the hottle-neefaf 
Still dangling at Iris waist. 

TkMWthrougi merry Islii^toii^ 
TheseWrrygafl^ls ho did plifi 

if ntil he^inrtfito the Wash * / 
Of£c[monton^so gay ; ^ 




At Edmonton Uis loving wife 

From llio balcony spied 
Her tender husband, wond'ring mndi 

To see how he did ride. 

Stop, stop, John Gilpin — Here's Hm hiiuo^ 
They all at once did cry ; 
^he diimS^ waits, and we aro tir*4^ 
Said Gilpm Aso omlf 

But yet his horse was not a whit 

Inclui'd to tarry there ; 
For why ? — his owner had, a house 

Full ten miles off, at Ware. 

So like an arrow swifl he flew. 

Shot by an archer strongf ; 
So did he fly — wliich brings ms to 

The middle of my song. 

Away went Gilpm out of breath. 

And sore against fals will, 
Till at his friend tiie calender's 

His horse at last stood still. 

The calender, amaz*d to seo 

His neighbour in such trim, 
Laid down his pipe, flew to the gate. 

And thus accosted him : 

. What news ? what news ? your tidings tal| ; 
Tell me you must and shall — 
Say why bareheaded you are como, 
Or why ycu come at all P^'^ 



HISTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. 239 

Now Gilpin had a pleasant wit, 

And lov*d a timely joke ; • 

And thus onto the calender 

In merry guise he spoke : 

I came because your horse would come ; 

.Andy if I well forbode. 
My hat and wig will soon be here. 
They are upon the road.*^ 

The calender right glad to find 

His friend in merry pin, 
Retum'd him not a dngle word^ 

Bat to the house went in : 

Whencb stndght he came with hat and w% 

A wig that flow'd behind, 
A hat not much the worse for woar^ 

£ach comely in its kind. 

He held them up, and in liis turn 
• ^ Thus showed his ready wit, 
My head is twice as big as yours, ^ ; ' 
They therefore needs must fit^ \^' 

^M}ut let me scrape the dirt away 
That hangs upon your face ; ' 
And stop and eat, for well you may 
Bo in a hungry case. * 

Said JghnV it is my wedding day, 

And all the world would stare, 
If wifo. should dine at Edmonton, 

And I should dine at Ware.-^ 

So turning to his horso, ho said, 
\^ I am in haste to dine ; 
Twas for jrour pleasure you came here, 
. You shall go back for mine ;>'^ 



240 HISTORY OF JOHN GU^IN. 

Ah, liK^em q;»eech, and bootless boost* 
^ For which he paid full dear ; 

For, while he spake, a brajing ass 
Did sing most loud and clear. 

Whereat his horse did snort, as 1m 

Had heard a lion roar, 
And gallop'd off with all his BMghitf 

As he had done be^e. 

Awajr went Gilpin, and away 
Went Gilpin's hat and wiff » 

He lost them sooner than at firsi. 
For why— they were too ^g. 



<^ 



Jfym nislrsss GHprn, when she 4Wir' 

Her harinnd posting down 
Into the ooontry &i away i 

She pull*d out half a crown ; 

And thus unto the youth diesaidy 

That drove them to the Bell, 
This shall be yours, when you bring hack 

My husband safe and welL^ 

The youth didri^^ and soon did meetf 

John ooming back amain : 
Whom in a trice he tried to stop. 

By catching at his rein ; 

But not performing what hemeantf 

And ghidly would have done, 
The frighted steed he frighted morty . 

And made him faster run. 

Away went Gilpin, and away 

Went postboy at liis heels, 
Thd postboy's horse right glad to miss ~" 

Tho lurab'rmg of the wheels. * — 



.. iM ^ Hujf ^ 



inSTORY OF JOHN GILPIN. 241 

Six gentlemen upon the rotd, 

Thus teeing Gilpin fly, 
With postboy scamp'ring in the retff 

They raised the hue and cry t-^ 

"^ Stop thief! stop thief I *« highwayata!^ 
Not one of ^em was mate ; 
And all and each that pass*d that way 
Did join in the pursuit. 

And now the turnpike gates agaiB 

Flew open in abort space ; 
The ton-men thinking as before. 

Thai Gilpin rode a race. 

I 
And ap ke d|d,4iid won it too. 

For he got first, to town ; 
Nor stopp'd till wjiere he did get op 

He did figun get down. 

Now lei us i&ngf lei% live theld^g, 

And Gflpuk.leng live fae ; 
And when he iie<t4o4Kjide lAtoad, 

llay'4%e dieie teeeel 

V0&.L r 






AN EPISTLE 

TO 

AN AFFUCTED PROTESf ANT LADY 

IK rSAVCK. 



A STRANGER'S purpose in thoie kyi 
Is to congratulate, and not to praise. 
To give the creature tlie Creator's due 
Were sin in me, and an offence to yon. 
From man to maHi <a e'en to woman piMd , , . 
Praise is the medium of a knavish trade, 
A coin by Crad for Folly's use design'df 
Spurious, and only current with the blind. 

Tlie path of sorrow, and that path alooB 
Leads to the land where sorrow is unknown * 
No traveller ever reached that blest abode^ 
Who found not thorns and briers in the road. 
The World may dance along the flow*ry plaint 
Cheer'd as they go by many a sprightly strain^ 
Whore Nature has her mossy velvet spread, 
With unshod feet they yet securely tread ; 
Admonish'd, scorn the caution and the friend. 
Bent all on pleasure, heedless of its end. . 
But he, who knew what human hearts would promti 
How slow to learn the dictates of his love, 
That, hard by nature and of stubborn will, 
A life of ease would make tliom harder BtUIy • 



T^^ 



AN EPISTLE lO A LADY. 2^ 

In pity to the ■ouls his grace do8ign*d 
To rewme from the ruins of mankind, 
Called for a cloud to darken all their years, 
And said, ^ Go, spend thorn in the Tale of tern.** 
O balmy galas of pcml-reriving air ! 
O salutary streams that murmur .there ! 
These flowing from the fount of grace above. 
Those breath'd from lips of everlasting lore. 
The flinty soil indeed their feet annoys ; 
Chill blarts of trouble nip their springing joys ; 
An envious world will interpose its frown. 
To mar delights superlour f o its owv 
And many a pang, exper»6nc*d still wHhm 
Renflnd diem of their hated inmate, sin ; 
But ills of ev*ry shade and ev*ry name, 
Transform*d to blesrings, ndss their cruel afan ; 
And ev*ry momenta calm, that soothes the htti^ 
Itgiv^ in earnest of eterjial rest. 

Ah* be not sad, although thy lot he east 
Far from the flock, and hi a boundless waste > 
No dkepherds* tents within tt^ view appear^ ^ 

But the chief Shepheid even there is near ; 
Thy tender sorroVs, and thy plaintivo stmin 
Fkiw in a foreign land, but not in vara ; . 
Thy tears all Issue from a source divine, 
And ov^ drop be^ieaks a Saviour thioe*- 
80 onee in Gideon's fleece the dews' were ioun^ 
And draqghl on all t&e drooping lierbs aronod. 



(244) 

REV. W. CAWTHdRNST UNIWft 



L 

UNWIN, I ihoiM birt in np^ 

The kindnait of a ^nmad, 
Whose worth deeervetf w wwan mhffi 

As ever friendship pmui'df 
Thy nulie omttt^Ml in a page 
Tbil would reebdm a Tieious a^ 

It . 
A imion fi>rin*d, as mine with the^^ 

Not rasMy, nor hi sper^ 
May beas Ibnrent in degHief 

And mmiL bk itb Sbrt, 
And may ae rich bl eodtfbft |if##i^ 
As that of trao fiaMMU k^rii; 

HL 
The hod inserted in the rind^ 

The bud of peach or rose, 
Adorns, though difhring hi itftldli^ 

The stock whereon it grows, 
With flow'r as sweet, or fruit as fidr» 
As if produced by Nature there. 

IV. 
Not rich, I render what I may, 

I seize thy name in haste, 
And place it in this first essay. 

Lost this should prove the last. 
'TIS where it should be — ^in a plan, 
That holds in view the good of man. 



'"-'"^-'"''■*TI' 



TO THE REV. W. a UNWOt 245 

V. 

Tbib poet's lyre, to fix hb fiane, 

Sboiild be tlM poet's hewt ; 
Aiftctkm lights a brighter flame 

Thaa ever bki'd hj art 
So nrases on these lines sttaad} 
Lthepoetinthefijend. 



MD or TOL. I. 



i X- 



POEMS, 

BY 

WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ.. 

TOOETOEK WITH HIS 

POSTHUMOUS POETRY, 

AH© 

A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE 
BY JOHN JOHNSON, LL. D. 

THREE VOLUMES FN ONK. 

NEW EDITION. 
BOSTON 

PHILLIPS, SAMPSON, & CO 

no WASHINGTON STRKKT 
1853. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



The history of tho following production, is brieiljr 
tliis • A lady, fond of blank v«rso, demanded a pooro 
of that kind from tho author, and gave him the Son 
for a subject. He obeyed ; and, having much leisure, 
connected another subject with it ; and pursuing tho 
train of thought to which his situation and turn of 
mind led him, brought forth, at length, instead of the 
trifle which he at first intended, a serious afiaur — t 
Volume ' 

In the poem on the suoject of Education, he would 
be very sorry to stand suspected of having aimed his 
censure at any particular school. His objections are 
inch as naturally apply themselves to schools in ge- 
neral. If there were not, as for the most part thore is, 
wilful neglect in those who manage them, and an 
eipission even of such discipline as they are suscepti- 



ADVERTISEMENT. 
Me of| the daydcin are yet too numerous for minute 
attention : and the aching hearts of ton thousand pa- 
rents, mourning under th^ bittores^ of all disappoint- 
ments, attest the truth of the allegation. His quarrel, 
therefore, is with the mischief at large, and not witk 
an? poxticular instance of iL 



CONTENTS. 



TuK.TA8K,inSixbook». Page 

BookS. Th9 Sofa, - • 7 

II. The Time-piece, ... - 29 
\ III. The Garden, - . - - - • 52^ 

^1 IV. The Winter Evemng, - • • 76 ' 
W. The Winter Morning Walk, - 98 

VI. The Winter Walk at noon, - - 123 
Epistle to Joseph Hill, Esq.- - - - ^^ .. 

Tirocinium : or, a Review of Schools, - - fK' ^* 
To the Reverend Mr. Newton, - ' - - 180 
•4» On the Receipt of my Mother's Picture out i£ 
Norfolk, - - - - 

Friendship, 

The Moralizer corrected, . • • . 

Catharina, ----••• 

. The Faithful Bird> • 

rhe Needless Alarm, . - - • - 
Boadicea, . - * • . - • 

Heroism, - - ' - 
On a mischievous Bull, which the Owner of 

j him sold at the Author's instance, • 
Animus Memorablis, 1789. Written in comme- 
moration of his majesty's happy's reco- 
very, 

Hyinn fof the use of the Sunday School at Ol- 
iiey, - - - 



181 

a85 

191 

193 

195- 

196 

200 

202 

205 



206 



208 



./ 



He 



CONTENTfa. 

Ptgt 
BtaniM^ tobjoined to ft Bill of Mortality for tho 

year 1787^ - - • - 209 

The tame for 1788, •* • • • • 211 

The same for 1789, 213 

The aame for 1790, • 214 

The flame for 1792, ----- 216 

The same for 1793, --.-•- 218 

inacription for the tomb of Mr. Hamilton, ' • 220 

Ipitaph on a Hare - * - - • "^ - ib. 

Ipitaphium Altemm, - • • • - 223 

Acconnt of the Author*! treatment of Harefl, • 23f 



THE TASK. 



THE SOFA, 



ARQUMENT OP THE FIKST BOOK. 

llbioricA. deduction of seats^ from the Stool to the Sofk— A 
Setioolboy^i ramble— A walk m th^ountry—The scene described 
— Rural sounds as well as sighu delightful— Another walk- 
Mistake c<mcerning the charms of solttutfe corrected — Colonnades 
commended — Alcove, and the view' from it — ^The Mrilder ness 
The grove — The thresher— The necessity and benefit of exercise 
—The works of nature superiour to, and m some instances inimi- 
table fay, art-*The wearbomeness of what is commonly called a 
mb of pleasure— Change of scene sometimes expedient— -A com- 
mon dMcribed, and the character of crazy Kate introduced — 
Gipsiev— Tlie blessings of civilined life — lliat state most farottr- 
able to virtue— The South Sea islanders compassionate^ but 
chiefly Omai — His present state of mind supposed — Civilised 
life friendly to virtue, but not great cities— Great oitiee, and Lon- 
don in particular, allowed their due praise, but censored— me 
ehamp^re— The book concludes with a reflection on the fatal 
^eeU of dbsipation and effeminacy upon o«r poblie b m — om . 



I SING the Sofa. I, who lately song 

Trathy Hope, and Charity,* and touched with awe 

The solemn chords, and, with a trembling ftand| 

Escaped with pain from that advent'rous flight, 

Now seek repose upon an humbler theme ; 6 

The theme, though humble, yet august and proud 

Th' occasion — for the fair commands the song. 

Time was, when dothing, sumptuous or Sar use, 
Save their own painted skins, our sires had none 
As yet black breeches were not ; satin smooth, 10 
Or velvet soft, or plush with shaggy pile : 
The hardy chief, upon the rugged rock 
Wash'd by the sea, or on the gravelly bank 
• See Poems Vol.. I 



8 THE TASK. 

Thrown up by wintry torrents roaring loud, 

Fearlem of wrong, reposed liis weary strength. 15 

Those barb'rous ages past, succeeded next 

The birthday of Invention ; weak at first, 

Dull in design, and clumsy to perform. 

Joint-stools were then created ; on tliree legs 

Upborne they stood. Three legs upholding firm 90 

A massy (Jab, in fashion square or round. 

On such a stool immortal Alfred* sat, 

And sway'd the sceptre of his infant realms : 

And such in ancient halls and mansions drear 

May still be seen ; but perforated sore, 25 

And driird in holes, the solid oak is found, 

By worms voracious eating through and tlirough. 

At length a generation more refin'd 
Improved the simple plan ; made threjB legf f^ffr, 
Gave them a twisted form vermicular, 30 

And o*er the seat, with plenteous wadding stuflTd, 
Induc*d a splendid cover, green and blue, 
Yellow and red, of tapestry richly wrought 
And woven close, or needlework sublime. 
There might ye see the piony spread v/ide, 35 

The full-blown rose, the shepherd and his lass, 
Lapdog and lambkin with black staring eyes, 
Aiid parrots with twin cherries in their beak. 

Now came the cane from India, smooth and bright, 
"With nature's varnish ; sever'd intp stripes, 40 

That interlaced each other, these supplied 
Of texture firm a lattice-work, that braced 
The new machine, and it became a chair. 
But restless was the chair ; the back erect 
Distressed the weary loins, that felt no ease ; 45 

The slipp*ry seat betrayed the sliding part 
That press'd it, and the feet hung dangling down, 
Anxious in vain to find the distant floor. 
These for the rich ; the rest, whom Fate had placed 
In modest n;ediocnty, content 50 

Witli base materials, sat on w^ell-tann'd hidost 




THE SOFA. 9 

Obdarate and unyielding, glassy smooth, 
With here and there a tufl of crimson yarn, 
Or scarlet crewel, in the cushion fix'd, 
If cushion mi|rht be call'd, what harder seemed 55 
Than the firm oak, of which tlie frame was form'd. 
No want of timber then was felt or fear'd 
In Albion*8 ha|^y isle. The lumber stood 
Ponderous aad fiz*d by its own massy weight 
But elbows still were wanting ; these, some saj, 60 
An aldermaa of Cripplegate contrived ; 
And some ascribe th' invention to a priest 
Burly, and big, and studious of his ease. 
But rude at firsts and not with easy slope 
Receding wide, they pressed against the ribs, G5 

And bniis'd the side ; and, elevated high. 
Taught the raised shoulders to invade Uio ears 
iJbxifg time elapsed or e'er our rugged sires 
Complained, though incommodiously pent in. 
And ill at ease behind. The ladies iirst 70 

Gan murmur, as became the softer sex. 
Ingenious Fancy, never better pleased 
Thata when employed, t* accommodate the fair, 

Heard the sweet moan with pity, and devised 

The soil sgtt^; one elbow at each end, 76 

And in the midst an elbow it received, 

United, yet divided, twain at once. 

So lAi two kings of Brentford on one throne ; 

And so two citizens, who take the air, 

Close paek'd, and smiling, in a 'chaise and ona " 80 

But relazatbn of the languid frame. 

By soft reounbency of outstretched limbs. 

Was bliss reserved for happier days. So slow 

The growth of what is excellent ; so hard 
i T* attain perfection in this nether world. 85 

Thus first Necessity invented stools. 

Convenience next suggested elbow-chairs, 

A«dtuxury th* accomplish^ Sofa last. 



Id TflE TASK. 

Tho nurso sleeps sweetly, hir'd to watch the Atk 
Whom snoring she disturbs. As sweetlj he, 90 

Who quits the coach-box at a midnight hoar. 
To sleep within tho carriage more secure. 
His legs depending at the open door. 
Sweet sleep enjoys the curate in his desk, 
Tho tedious rector drawling o*er his head ; 9S 

And sweet the clerk below. But neither sleep 
Of lazy nurse, who snores the sick man dead ; 
Mor his, who quits the box at midnight hour 
To slumber in the carriage more secure ; 
Nor sleep enjoy'd by curate in his desk ; 100 

Nor yet the dozmgs of thjB clerk, are sweet, 
Ck>mpar'd with the repose the Sofa yields. 

O may I live exempted (while 1 live . 
Guiltless of pamper 'd appetite obscene) 
From pangs arthritic, that infest the toe ^ 106 

Of libertine Excess. The Scfa suits 
The gouty limb, 'tis true : but goltty4imb. 
Though on a Sofa, may I never feel : \ 
For I have lov'd the rural walk through mnes 
Of grassy swarth, close cropped by nibbUng sheep, 110 
And skirted thick with intertexture firm 
Of thorny boughs ; have lov*d the rural walk 
O'et hills, through valleys, and by^Iveri*T5ink, * 
K'cr since a truant boy I pass'd my boimds 
T' enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames ; 115 

And still remember, not without regret, 
Of hours, that sorrow since has much endear*d, 
How oft, my slice of pocket store consum'd, 
fetill hung'ring, penny less, and far from h<Hne, 
I fod on scarlet hips and stony haws, 1^ 

Or blushing crabs, or berries, that emboss 
The bramble, black as jet, or sloes austere. 
Hard faro ! but such as boyish appetite 
Disdains not ; nor tho palate, undoprav'd 
By culinary arts, unsay 'ry deems. . JSH 



J 



THE SOFA. II 

No 5c/a4ben-«wwt8d my v«tiim ; 
Ndr Sofa then I needed. Youth repaira 
His wasted Sf^irits quickly, b^ long toil 
Incurring short fatigue ; and, though our yeaifi 
As life declines, speed rapidly away, 131 

And not a year but pilfers as he goes 
Some youthful grace, that age would gladly keep ; 
A tooth ot auburn lock, and by degrees 
Their length and colour from the locks they spare; 
The olastlck i^ring of an unwearied foot, 135 

That mounts the stile with ease, or leaps the fenc« ; 
That play of lungs, inhaling and again . ^ » 

Respirijig freely the fresh air, that makes 
Swift pace or steep ascent no toU to me, 
Mine have not pilfer'd yet ; nor yet impur'd 140 

My relish of fair prospect ; scenes that sooth'd 
Or charm'd me young, no longer young, I find 
Still soothing, and of pow*r to charm me stilL . 

And witness, dear companbn of my walks, ^ 
Whoso arm this ^aoonlifillLwInte; I perceive A 145 
Fast loek*d in mine, with pleasure such as 16ve,| 
Confirmed by long experience of thy worth j 
And well-tiied virtues, could alone ini^ire— / 
Witness a joy that thou hast doubled long. .^^ * ^ 

ThoQ know'st my praise of nature most sineerei 150 
And that my raptures are not conjured up 
To serve occa^ons of poetic pomp. 
But genulperaiwUMctjMirtner of theflMdL 
I tlow olTupon yon eminence our pace 
Has riaoken'd to a paose, and we have b(mie 165 ' 

The mfHing wind, scarce conscious that it Mew, 
While Adnnration, £Mding at the eye, 
And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene 
Thence, with what pleasure Jiave we just diseern*d ^ 
The distant plough slow moving, and beside 101 

His laboring team, that swerv'd not from the track, 
l^he sturdy swain diminished to a boy ! 
Here Ouse, riow winding through a level plain 



19 



TIIK TASK. 



01 spacious meads, with cattle sprinkled o n^ 

Conducts the eye Ql<mg his sinuous courae M 

Delighted. There, fast rooted in their bwikf 

Stand, never overlooked, our fav'rite elms, 

That screen tlie heTdsman^s solitary hut $ 

While far beyond, and overthwart the witmm^ 

That, as with molten giasa, inlays the vsIbi 139 

The sloping land recedes into the cleudi ; 

Displaying on its. varied side the grace 

Of hedge-row beauties nmnberiess, square tow'fi 

Tall spire, from idiioh the sound of eheerfnl Mis 

Ju8( undulates ^)on the tist^ning ear, Iff 

p roves^ heaths^ ft^ smoking vtllageij^reipouA 

Scenes jnust \ie beantifiil, which daily^yiew*d~ 

Please daily, and whose novelty sorvires 

Long knowled^ and the scmttny of years. 

Praise justly due to those that I describe. 189 

r^or rural eigh^ alone,, but hiral so^s^ / 

vExhilan^te the spirit, oad restore 
T ^^ tone of languid Natur eJ Mighty winds » 

'hat sweep the sKirt oi some fiur^spreading WAb4 
Of ancient growth, mak^ music not nnliks 18S 

The dash ei' Ocean on his winding shore, 
And lull the t^nrit while they fill the mind } 
(Jnnumber'd branches waving in the blast, 
And all their leaves fast fiutt'ring, all at onoe, 
Nor less composure waits npon the rear / 190 

Of distant floods, or on the softer voioe 

^ Of neighboring fountain, or of rifls that dip 
Through the deft rock, and f^^wniffg as 
Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at 
In matted grass, that with a livelier ^reoa 
Betrays the secr et of their silent course.^ 

laiuce manmiaie empii 
But animated nature sweeter stiS, 
To sooth and satisfy the human ear. . ^ 

Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and MM 90S 

jThe livelong niglit ; nor these alone, whose nolM 



rui:: sofa. \ 13 

. Nicc-fmger'U Art must emulate in vain, \ ^^-^ 

/ Eut cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime \ . ^ 

/ In still-repMtted olrclos, screaming loud, '^ I *' - ^ 

The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl, ^Xp 

That bails the rising moon, have charms for me, * 
Sounds inharmonious in themefelves and harsh, I 
Yet heard in scones where peace for ever reigns,/ 
And on ly , l^erq , p^qft se hjgbly for Uteir sslte. 

eace to the artist, whose ingenious thought 210 
Devis'd the. weatherhouse, that useful toy ! 
Fearless of humid air aod gathVing rains. 
Forth steps the man — an emblem of myself ! 
More delicate his tim'rous mate retires. 
When Winter soaks the fields, and female feet, 215 
Too weak to struggle with tenacious clay, 
Or ford the- rivulets, are best at home. 
The task of new discoveries falfs on me. 
At such a season, and with such a charge. 
Once went I forth ; and found, till then unknown, 220 . 
A c ottage, whither oft we since repair : 
Tis perch'd upon the green hill top, but closo 
£nviron*d with a ring of branching elms, 
That overhang the thatch, itself unseen 
Peeps at the vale below ; so thick beset 225 

With foliage of such dark redundant growth, 
I caird the low-roofd lodge the pe asanVt ne§ t. 
And, hidden as it is, and far remotb 
From such unpleaaixig sounds as haunt the ear 
In village or in town, the bay of curs 230 

Incessant, clinking hammers, grinding wheels. 
And infants clam'roos whether pleas'd or pai]i*d. 
Oil have I wish'd the peaceful coveret mine.* 
Here, I have said, at least I should possess 
The poe t's tre a8 ^rey^§^^j gce. and indulge .23R 

The dreams of tan cy^ trai^ ^ y^ jjy/][ ff'^f;ii ^f^j 
TSntliougiit i tK dweller in that still retreat 
Dearly obtains the refuge it afTorda. 
Its elevated site forbids the wretch 
Vol. II. 2 



14 THE TASK. 

To drink sweet waters of the crystal. well ; 24A 

He dips his bowl into the weedy ditch, 

And, heavy laden, brings his bev'rage home, 

Far Yetch'd an^ little worth ; nor seldcon waitSi 

Dependent on the baker's punctual call. 

To hear his cteaking panniers at the door, 245 

Angry, and sad, and his last crust consum d. 

80 farewell envy of the peasant's nest ! 

If solitude make scant the means of life, 

Society for mo ! — thou seeming sweet. 

Be still a pleasing object in my view , 850 

My visit still, but never mine abode. 

Not distant far, a length of col pgnade 

Invites us. Monument of ancient taste. 

Now scorned, but worthy of a better fate. 

Our fathers knew the value of a screen S56 

From sultry suns : and, in their shaded walks 

And long protracted bow'rs, enjoy'd at noon 

The gloom and coolness of declining day. 

We bear our shades about us ; self-depriv'd 

\ Of other screen, the thin umbrella spread, 260 

\ And range an Indian waste without a tree«^ , 

\ Thanks to Benevolus* — he spares me yet t^ 

\ These chestnuts rang'd in corresponding lines ; 

\ And, though himself so polished, still reprieves 

I The obsolete prolixity of shade. 26f> 

I Descending now (but cautious, lest too fast) 

, A sudden steep upon a {ggtic^liuQjJggi 

We pass a gulf, in which the willows dip 

I Their pendent boughs, stooping as if to drink. 

Hence, ankle deep in moss and flow'ry thyme, 27Q 

I We mount again, and feel at ev'ry step 

Our foot half sunk in hillocks green and soft. 

Raised by the mole, the mmer of the soil. " 

He, not unlike tlie great ones of mankind. 

Disfigures Earth : and, plotting In thff dffrk, 275 

* John Courtney Throckmorton, Em. of Weston Un***^ 
ood. 



t 



^ 



890 



/ THE SOFA. 15 

I T oils mucli to earn ^ monumcnU| j^i) ^ 
Tnat nisy accord the *"'8ci"cf^ lio liaTdoiie. 

Me summ}t grin'dy raiold the^roud alcove 
That crowns it ! yet not all its ^ride secures 
The grand re treatjrom injuries unpress'd I 280 

Bjr£ural carvers, who wit^l^nlves deface 
The panelijl^avmg an. obscuTe, ru5e name, 
IncJ^acters^uncout^^s^nd^pelt amiss. ^^y^x^ 
Sojtrop^tlg zeal t' iniisojiaJixfi^imsclf^ 
Beats in the breast, of man, that e'en a few, U 
Few trangieat-jMaM^wor frimth' ahym abhprr'd 
QiLklankjBWucio%g90in a glorious prize, . 
And jeveij to a clown. Now roves the eye ; • 
And, posted on this speculative height, 
Exults in its command. The sheepfold here 
Pours out its Qeeey tenants o'er the glebe. ' 

At first, progressive as a stream, they seek 
The middle field ; but, scatter'd by degrees, 
Each to his choice, soon whiten all the land. 
There from the sunburnt hayfield homeward creeps 
The loaded wain j while, lighten'd of its charge, 296 
Tho wain thj^t meets it passes swiftly by ; 
The booriJ| driver leaning o*er his team 
Vocif i-ous^ and impatient of delay. 
Nor less attractive is tho woodland scene, 900 

Diversified with trees of ev'ry gro\vth. 
Alike, yet various. Here the gray smooth trunks 
Of ash, or lime, or beech, distinctly shine. 
Within the twilight of their distant shades ; 
There, lost behind a rising ground, the wood 305 

Seems sunk, and shortcn'd to its topmost boughs.. 
No tree in all the grove but has its charms, 
Though each its liuo peculiar ; paler some, 
And of a wannish gray; the willow such, 
And poplar, that with silver linfes his leaf. 
And ash far-stretching his umbrageous arm ; 
Of deeper green the elm ; and deeper still, 
L?rd of the woods, tlio long surviving oak 



310 



10 THE TASK. 

Some glossy lcav*d, and shining in tho son, 
The maple and the beech of oily nuts SIS 

Prolifick, and the lime at dewy ove 
i)iirusing odours : nor unnoted pass 
The sycamore, capricious in attire, 
Now green, now tawny, and, ere autumn yet 
Have cliang'd the woods, in scm-Iet honours brig;ht. 
O'er those, but, far beyond (a spacious map' 331 

Of hill and valley interpos'd between) 
Tho Ouso, dividing the well-watcr'd land, 
Now glitters in the sun, and now retiroS) 
As bashful, yet impati)ent to be seen. 335 

Hcnoo the declivity is sharp and short, 
And such the reascent ; between them weeps 
A little naiad her impov'rish'd urn 
All summer long, which winter fills again. 
The folded gates Would bar my progress noWy 330 
But that the lord* of this enclos'd demesne, 
Communicative of the good he owns. 
Admits me to a share ; the guiltless eye._ 
Commits no ^VTong, nor wastes wha t- it fiinjoyau .^ 
Refreshing change ! where now the blazing sini^ 335 
By short transition we Iiave lost his glare, 
And stepp'd at once into a cooler clim^. 
Ye fallen avenues ! once more I mourn 
Your fate unmerited, once more rejoice 
That yet a remnant of your race survives. 340 

How airy and how light the graceful arch, 
Yet awful as the consecrated roof 
Re-echoing pious anthems ! while beneath - 
The checker 'd earth seems restless as a flood 
Brush'd by the wind So sportive is the light 34S 
Shot thsough the boughs, it dances as they daiice, 
Shadow and sundiine intermingling quick, 
And darkening, and enlightening, as the leaves 
Play wanton, ev'ry moment, cv'ry spot. 
And now, with nerves new brac'd and spirits cheer'd^ 
* See the foregoin*' note. 



THE SOFA. 17 

We tieod tho wilderness, whose well-roll 'd Walks, 391 
With curvature of slow and easy sweep — 
Deception innocent — ^give ample space 
To narrow bounds. The gijiM receives us next ; , ^ 
Between the upright shails of whose tall elms 353 
We may discern the thresher at his task. 
Thump after thump resounds the constant fljdl, 
That scehis to swing uncertain, and yet falls 
Full on the destined ear. Wide flies the chafT, 
Tho rustling straw sends up a frequent mist y 3d0 
Of aj^oms, sparkling- in tho noonday beam. 
Come hither, ye that press your beds of down. 
And sleep not ; see him sweating o'er his bread 
Before he eats it. — *Tis the primal curse, 
But softeiFd into mercy ; made the pledge 365 

Of cheerful days and nights without a groan. 

By n.ftn«Al^g|y ftP^pn^ aJl fhnt ifl Riihsifitn. V 

Constant rotation ■ of th* unweari ed whe ol 
That Nature rides upoii;^ maintains her health,^ 
Her beauty, her fertility ^he dreads 370 

Xn Instant's pause, and lives but while she moves : 
Tts own. revolvency lipliolds the'Worldj 
Winds from all quarters agitate the air, 
And fit the limpid element for use^ 
Else noxious ; oceans, rivers, lakes, and streams, 3f5 
All feel the freshening impulse, and are cleans'd, 
^* By restless undulation: e'en the oak 

Thrives by the rude concussion of the storm ; 
He seems indeed indignant, and to feel 
Th' impression of the blast with proud disdain, 380 
Frowning, as if in his unconscious arm 
He held the thunder * but the monarch owes 
His firm stability to what he scorns, , 

More fix'd below, the more disturb'd above. 
TJie, law, by which all creatures else are bound, 38S 
Bmds man, tho Lord of all. Himself derives 
I'Jo mean advantage from a kindred cause, 
From strenuous toil liis hours of sweetest case. 
2» 



m Till:: TASK. 

The sedoatAO stretch their lazy (eno;lh. 

Wlion Custom bids, but no rcfrcsiimcnt fiiid| 390 

For none they need : tlie languid eye, the check 

Deserted of its bloom, the flaccid, shrunk, 

And wither'd muscle, and the vapid Boul, 

Reproach their owner with tliat love of rest, 

To which he forfeits e'en the rest he loves. 306 

Not such tlie alert and active. Measure ^^ 

By its true worth, the comforts it affoids^ 

And theirs alone seems worthy of thd AifcG^< 

Good health, and its associate in the most, 

Good temper ; spirits prompt to undertake, 400 

Arid not soon spent, though in an arduous task ; 

The pow'rs of fancy and strong thought are theirs ; 

E'en age itself seems privileg'd in them 

With clear exemption from its own defects. 

A sparkling eye beneath a wrinkled front 403 

The vet'ran shows, and, gracing a gray beard 

With youthful smiles, descends toward the grave 

Sprightly, and old almost without decay. 

Like a coy maiden, Easg . when courted most. 
Furthest retires — an idoljat whose shrine • J 410 
Who ofl*nest sacrifice are favoured least. 
The love of Nature, and the scenes she draws, 
Is^ture*s dictate. Strange ! there should be found, 
Who, self-imprison'd in tlieir proud saloons. 
Renounce the odours of the open field 415 

For the unscepted fictions of the loom ; 
Who, satisfied with only pencill'd scenes. 
Prefer to the performance of a God 
Th* inferiour wonders of an artist's hand 1 
Lovely indeed ^e mimick works of Art } 420 

But N ature's works fry ^ovelier . I admire,' 
None more admires tlie painter's magick sliill \ 
Who shows me that which I shall never sco, 
Conveys a distant country into mine. 
And tlirows Italian liglit on English walls . 425 

But imitative strokes can do no more 



THE SOFA. 19 

Tlian please the eje — sweet Nature's ev'ry stnee 

The air salubrious of her lofty hills, 

The cheering fragance of her dewy vales, 

And musick of her woods — ^no works of man ^^^ 430 

May rival these, these all bespeak a pow*r 

Peculiar, and exclusively hor own. 

Beneath the open sky she spreads the feast , 

Tis free to all — 'lis ev'ry day renew'd ; 

Who scorns it starves deservedly at home. 433 

He does not scorn it, who, imprison'd long 

In some unwholesome dungeon, and a prey 

To sallow sickness, which the vapours, dank 

And clammy, of his dark abode have bred, 

Esci^es at last to liberty and light : ^ 440 

His cheek recovers soon its healthful hue ; 

His eye relumines its eztinguish'd fires ; 

He walks, he leaps, he runs — ^is wing'd with joy. 

And riots in the sweets of ev'ry breeze. 

He does not scorn it, who has Jong endur'd 445 

A fever's agonies, and fed on drugs. 

Sot yet the mariner, his blood inflam'd 

With acrid salts ; his very heart athirst, 

To gaze at Nature in h^r green array, 

« Upon the ship's tall side he stands, pos8e«*d 450 

With visions prompted by intense desire ; « 

Fair fields appear below, such as he left 
Far distant, such as he would die to find-- 
He seeks them headlong, and is seen no moro. 

The spleen ^ i seldom felt where Flora reigns -, 466 
llie lowering eye, the petulance, the frown. 
And sullen, sadness, that o'ershade, distort, 

«An4 mar, the face of Beauty, when no cause 
For such immeasurable wo appears, 
These Flora banishes, and gives the fair 460 

Sweet smiles, and bloom less transient than her own. 
It is the constant revolution, stale 
And tasteless, of the same repeated joys. 
That jialls and satiates, and makes languid life 



80 T;!' TASK 

Ajifdlcrs pack, that bow ; the bearer tlown. 

HcaJlh suflcrs, and the spirits i;bb, the heart 

Recoils from its own choice — at the full feast 

Is famisli'd — finds no niusick in the song, 

No smartness in the jest ; and wonders why. 

Yet thousands still desire to journey on, 

Though halt, and weary of the path they tread. 

The paralytick, who can hold her cards, 

But cannot play them, borrows a friend's hand, 

To deal and shuffle, to divide and sort 

Her mingled suits and sequences ; and sits, 

Spectatress both and spectacle, a sad 

And silent cipher, while her proxy plays. 

Others are dragg'd into a crowded room 

Between supporters ; and, once seated, sit, 

Through downright inability to rise, 

Till the stout bearers lift the corpse again. 

Tliese speak a loud memento. Yet e'en these . 

Themselves lovo life, and cling to it, as he y 

That overhangs a torrent, to a twig. 

They love it, and yet loathe it ; fear to die, 

Yet scorn the purposes for which they live. 

Then wherefore not renounce them ? No— the dread. 

The slavish dread of solitude, that breeds 

Reflection and remorse, the fear of shame, 

And their invet'rate habits, all forbid. 490 

Whom call we gay ? That honour has been long ^. 
The boast of mere pretenders to the name. 
The innocent are gay — ^tho lark is gay, 
Tliat dries his feathers, saturate with dew. 
Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams 
Of day spring overshoot his hunible nest. 
The peasant too, a witness of his song. 
Himself a songster, is as gay as he. 

But save roe from the gayety of those, 
Whoso headachs nail them to a noonday bed ; 
And save mo too from theirs, whose haggard eyes 
Flash dOsperalion, and betray their panirs 



4U5 



470 



475 



480 



485 



495 



500 



THE SOFA. 21 

For property Btripp'd off by cruel chance ; 
From gayety, that fills the bones with pain, 
The mouth with blasphemy, the heart with wo. SOS 

The earth was made so various, t hat the mind 
Of desultory man, studious of change, 
And pleas'd with novelty, might be indulg'd. l/^ 
Prospects, however lovely, may be seen 
Till half their beauties fade : the weary sight MO 
Too well acquainted with their smiles, ^des oll( 
Fastidious, seeking less familiar scenes. 
Then snug enclosures in th^ shelter*d vale^- 
Where frequent hedges intercept the eye, 
Delight us ; happy to renounce awhile, 515 

Not senseless of its charms, what still we love, 
That such diort absence may endear, it more. 
Then forests, or the savage rock, may pteaAe, 
That hides the sea-mew 'm his hollow clefts 
Above the reach of man. His heary head, 520 

Ck)nspicuous many a league, the mariner 
Bound homeward, and in hope already there. 
Greets with three cheers exulting. At his waist 
A girdle of half-wither'd shrubs he shows, 
And at Ids feet the baffled billows die. "^ 62S 

Tho common , overgrown with fern, and roiig& 
With prickly gorse, that, shapeless and deform'd, * 
And dangerous to the touch, has yet its bloom, 
And decks itself with ornaments of gold. 
Yields no unpleashig ramble ; there tlio turf 530 

Smells fresh, and, rich in odorirrous herbs 
And fungous fruits of earth, regales the sense 
With luxury of unexpected sweets. 

There often wanders gfl^, whom better days 
Saw bettor clad, in cloak of satin trimmed 635 

Willi lace, and hat with splendid riband bound, 
A serving maid was she, and fell in love 
With one who left her, went to sea, and died. 
Her fancy follow'd him tlurough foaming wayee 
To distant shores ; and she would sit and weep 5^ 



/ 



22 Till:: TA.Si;. 

Al wnat a sailor bailors ; iancy loo, 

Delusive uiost where warmest wishes are, 

Would oft anticipato his glad return, 

And droam of transports she was not to know. 

She heard the doleful tidings of his death — 545 

And never smird again ! and now she roams / 

The dreary waste ; there spends tlie livelong day, 

And there, unless when charity forbids, 

The Uvslong night. A tatter'd apron hides^ 

Worn as a cloak, and hardly hides, a gown 550 

More tatter'd still ; and both but ill conceal 

A bosom heav'd with never-ceasing sighs. 

She begs an idle pui of all she meets, 

And hoards them in her sleeve ; but needful food, 554 

Though preqp'd with hunger oil, or comeiier clothes, 

Thoi^h pinch'd with cold, asks never.— -Kate js crai'd. ' 

I see a column of slow rising smoke 
O'ertop the lofly wood, tliat skirts the wild. 
A vagabond and useless tribe there eat 
Their miserable meal. A kettle, slung 500 

Between two poles upon a stick transverse. 
Receives the morsel — ^flesh obscene of dog. 
Or vermin, or at best of cock purloined 
From his accustom'd perch. Hard faring race ! 
Tliey pick their fuel out of ev*ry hedge, 5C5 

Which, kindled with dry leaves, just saves unquonch*d 
The spark of life. The sportive wind blows wide 
Their fluttering rags, and shows a tawny skin, 
The vellum of the pedigree they claim. 
Great skill have they in palmistry, and more 570 

To conjure clean away the gold they toucli. 
Conveying worthless dross into its place ; 
Loud when they beg, dumb only when they steal 
^trange ! that a creature rational, and cost 
In human mould, should brutalize by choice v/ 596 
His nature ; and, though capable of arts, 
By which the world might profit, and himself 
Belf-banish'd from socioty, prefer 



THE SOFA. 23 

Suchjigualid sloth to honourable^il ! 
TOfeven tTiesoJTlRmgSTeigiiing sickness oft 580 

They swathe the forehead, drag the limping limb, 
And vex their flesh with artificial sores, 
Can change their whine into a mirthful note, 
When tfafe occasion offers ; and with dance, 
And musick of the bladder and the bag, GSS 

Beguile their woes, and make the woods resound. 
Such health and gayety of heart enjoy *^^' 
The houseless rovers of the sylvan world ; 
And, breathing wholesome air, and wand'ring much. 
Need other physick none to heal tli' effects 590 

Of loathsome diet, penury, and cold. 

Blest he, though undistinguished -from tlic crowd 
By wealth or dignity, who dwells secure,'*^ ^ 
Where man by nature fierce, has laid aside 
His fierceness, having learnt, though slow to Icam, 
The manners and the arts of civil life. 506 

His wants indeed are many ; but supply 
Is obvious, plac'd within the easy reach 
Of tcmp'rate wishes and industrious hands. 
Here virtue thrives as in her proper soil ; 600 

Not rude and siu-ly, and beset with thorns. 
And terrible to sight, as when she springs, 
(If e'er she spring spontaneous,) in remote 
And barb 'reus climes, where violence prevails, 
And strength is lord of all ; but gentle, kind, 605 

By culture tam'd, by liberty refresh'd. 
And all her fruits by radiant truth matur'd. 
War and the chase engross the savage whole ; 
War foUow'd for revenge or to supplant 
The envied tenants of some happier spot : 610 

The chase for sustenance, precarious trust 
Ilia hard condition with severe constraint 
Binds all his faculties, forbids all growth 
Of wisdom, proves a school, in wliich he loariis 
Sly circumvention, unrelenting hate, 61b 

Mean self-attacbmcnt, and scarce aught besid« 



24 THE TASK. 

Thus fare the shiv'ring natives of the north, 

And thus the rangers of the western world, 

Where it advances far into tlie deep, 

Tow'rds the antorctick. E'en the favour'd isles 626 

So lately found, although^he constant sun . • 

Cheer all their seasons with a grateful smile. 

Can hoast hut little virtue ; and inert 

Through plenty, lose in morals what they gain 

In manners — ^victims of luxurious ease. ^ . 625 

These therefore I can pity, plac'd remote - 

From all that science traces^ art invents, 

Or inspiration teaches ; and enclosed 

In boundless oceans never to be passed 

Hy navigators unmform'd a» they, 630 

Or plough'd perhaps by British bark again . 

But far beyond the rest, and with most cause, 

Thee, gentle savage !* whom no love of thee 

Or thine, but curiosity perhaps, 

Or else vain glory, prompted us to draw C35 

Fortli from thy native bow'rs, to show thee hor« 

With what superiour skill we can abuse 

The gifts of Providence, and squander life. 

The dream is past ; and thou hast found again 

Thy cocoas and bananas, palms and yams, C4C 

And homesUii thatch *d with leaves. But liast thou 

found 
Their former charms ? And, having seen our statOi 
Our palaces, our ladies, and our pomp 
Of equipage, our gardens, and our sports. 
And heard our musick ; are thy simple friendr, 644 
Thy simple fare, and all thy plain delights, 
As dear to thoc as once ? And have thy joys 
Lost nothing by comparison with ours ? 
Rude as thou art, (for we returned tliee rude 
And ignorant, except of outward show,) 660 

I cannot think thee yet so dull of heart 
And spiritless, as never to regret 
• Omai. 



THE SOFA. « 

Sweets tailed here, and left as soon as knowa. 
Metliinks I see thee straying on the beach, 
And asking of the surge, that bathes thy- foot, 666 
If ever it has wash'd our distant shore. 
I see thee weep, and thine are honest tears, 
A patriot's ibr his country : thou art sad 
At thought of her forlorn and abject state. 
From which no pow'r of thine can raise hor up. COO 
Thus fancy paints thee, and, though apt to err. 
Perhaps errs little, Vhen she paints thee thus. 
She tells me too, that duly ey'ry mom 
Thou climb'st t^e mountain top, with eager eye 
Exploring. far and wide the wat'ry waste CG5 

For sight of ship from England. Ev'ry speck 
Seen in the dim horizon turns thee pale 
With conflict of contending hopes and fears. 
But comes at last the dull and dusky eve. 
And sends thee to thy cabin, well prepared C70 

To dream all night of what the day denied. 
Alas ! expect it not. We found no bait 
To tempt us in thy country. Doing good, 
Disinterested good, is not our tf&de. 
We travel far, His trueibjjljiQt for aougjiti 675 

Knd must be Bril)^ to compass Ear til again 
By mother hopes and richer fruits than yours. 

But though true_ worth and xlrtuo ^inthe piilj 
And genial soil of cultivated Ji|^ 
58^^^*Mu?SOK£fl^iwM llirivc only thcMff C80 
Yyiot i n cities ofl: in proud, and gay, 
ijaiit jnin-ieYoied cities. Thftlier flow. 
As to a common an3 most noisome sewer, 
TEo^egs and feculence of every land. 
. In cities, foul example on most minds 




fij^ttieSj vice Fslnd^en with most ease, 

Or seen with least reproach ; and virtue, taught COO 

' Vol. II. ♦ 13 



2C THE TASK. 

Bj frequent lapse, can hope no triumph there 

Beyond th* achievement of successful flight. 

I do confess them nurseries of the arts, 

In which they flourish most ; where in the beams 

Of warm encouragement, and m the eye <SKi 

Of p*jblick note, they reach tlieir perfect size. 

Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaimed 

The fairest capital of all the world, 

By riot and incontinence the worst. 

There touched by Reynolds, a dull blank becomoi 700 

A lucid mirror, in which Nature sees 

All her reflected features. Bacon theve 

Gives more than female beauty to a stone, 

And Chatham*8 eloquence to marble lips. 

Nor does the chisel occupy alone 70S 

The powers of sculpture, but the style as much ; 

Each province of her art her equal care. 

With nice incision o£ her gruided steel . 

Shfi^fdnflg^ff a. hrazen field, and clothes a so il 

So sterile with what charms so e'er jfee w^, 710 

The richest scenery and theloveliest fo rms. 

Where finds Philosophy her eagle eye. 

With which she gazes at yon burning disk 

Undazzlod, and detects and counts his spots ? 

In London. Wliere her implements exact, T15 

With which she calculates, computes, and scans. 

All distance, motion, magnitude, and now 

Measures an atom, and now girds a world •• • 

In London. Where has commerce such a mart, 

So rich, so throngM, so drtdn'd, and so suppfiedi 720 

As London — opulent, enlarged, and still 

Increasing London ' Babylon of old 

Not more the glory of the Earth, than she, 

A more accomplished world's chief glory now. 

She has her praise. Now mark a spot or twO; 735 
That so much beauty would do well to purge ; 
And show this quocn of cities, that so fair. 
May yet bo foul ; so witty, yet not wise 



THE SOFA. «7 

(t is not soemly, nor of good report, '^v 

That she is slack in discipline } more prompt TM 

T* avenge than to prevent the breach of law : 
That she is rig id in denouncing death 
On peity roobers, ana ind p'j^es Hie, 
And YHbet t y; ana oHfimcs hongur^^ , 
T& peculators of flie puWic^^flU •' 735 

That thieves at home must ^""J ) frflt llff l^^*^ f"fti 
Into his overgorg^d and bloated puiflp 
The wealth of Indmn provinces^ escapes, 
lior is it welly nor can it come to good, 
That, through profane and infidel contempt 740 

Of holj writ, she has presum'd t' annul 
And abrogate, as roundly as she may. 
The total ordinance and will of God ; 
Advancing Fashion to the post of Truth, 
And centring all authority in modes 745 

And customs of her own, till sabbath rites 
Have dwindled into/mrespected forms, 
And knees and hassocks are well-nigh divorced. 

God made the country, and man r jp'^* *Vn tnv* / 
What wondetJBen that aealth and virtue, gjfia '^TbO 
Tharijafl fllonie ffiSEesweet the j?lfter draught 
That life holds out to all, should most abound 
Knd least be threatened in the fields and groves ? 
Possess ye, therefbri^ye whoi^ Borne about 
In chariots and sedans, know no fatigue / 765 

But that of idleness, and taste no scenes V 
But such as art contrives, possess ye still 
Your element, there only can ye shine ; 
There only minds hke yours can do no harm. 
Our groves were planted to console at noon 760 

The pensive wand'rer in their shades. At eve 
The moon-beam, sUding softly in between 
The sleeping leaves, is all the light they wish, 
Birds warbKng all the musick. We can spare 
The splendour of your lamps ; they but eclipse 765 
Oyr softer satellite. Your songs confound 



9» THE TASK. 

Our more harmonious notes : the thrnsh departs 

Scar'di and ih* offended mghtin^le is muto. 

There is a poblick mischief in your mirth ; 

It piajjrues you** coontry. Folly such as yourSi 770 

Graced with a sword, and*worthier of a foQ, 

Uas made, what enemies could ne'er have donei 

Our arch of empire, steadfast but ^or jo^f 

A^motilated stniciare soon to hSL ' 



THE TASK^ 



THE TIME-PIECE. 



ABGUMENT OF THE SECOND BOOK. 

]v,x Roflectiona laggested by the conclusion of the former book— Poaoe 
aroon; the oationi recomniended on the i^xowMhof their eommod * 

V - feilovshiv in -eorrow— Prodigies • emimerated— Sicilian - eartli- 

vv' quftKes— Man reiidered-«biM«aiii_la theea reliwitiee Itjr fio— 

God^the agent tnljieiEi— The philosophy that stops at feeondary 
eausM WprotM^^^ur own late miscarriagea aeeoanted for — 
Satirical notice taken of onr trips to Fontainblea1^VB1lt the 

rrad Advertiser of engraved sermons— Fetit^roaitre parson^->The 
good preacher — ^Picture of a theatrical clerical coxccNnb— 8tory> 
teltartjind jartera in tb^ pal pii l e uim e d Apostr<yhe to malar 
applause — ^Retailers of ancient philosophy expostulated with— 
Sum af the whole matter — Effects of sacerdotal mismana^ment 
on the lait^Their folly and extravagance— The misehieft of 
profusioa-*-Profn8ion itself, with all its conse<}uent evils, ascribed, 
as to iu principal cause, to the want of dieeipUae in the onivier- 
•it&sa. 



O FOR a lodge in some vast wlldornoss^ 
Some botmdlesfl contiguity of shade. 
Where romour of opp ression and deceit, 
Cy qnspcce^ul or succ essful war, 
B^ht neveFreacS^m e more,! My ear is pain*d, 
My soul is sick with ev'ry d&ys report 
Of wrong and outrage with which earth b fill'd. 
There is no flesh in man's obdurate" heart ; 
It does not feel for man ; the natural bond 
Of brotherliood is scver'd, as the flax, 
3* 



10 



:«! Tii;:TASK. , 

That falls asunder at tlu' touch of 6re. 
Ho findgjiis fellow guilty of a skin . 
Not colour'd like his own ; and having pow'r 
T* enibrco t^o wron^ lor such a worthy cauae 
Dooms and devotes hin\ as a lawful prey. 1^ 

Lands intersected by a narrow frith 
Abhor each other. Mountains interposed 
Make enemies of nations, who had else 
Isike kindred drops been mingled into one. 
Thus man devotes his brother, and destroys ; 20 

And worse than all, and most to bo dcplor'd, 
As human nature's bro adest, foulest bl ot, • 

Chains him, and tasks liirrT, and oxactslus swe^t 
With stripes, that Mercy with a bleeding l.jari, 
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. 23 

Then what is man ? And what man, seeing this, 
And having human feelings, does not bltish, 
And hang his head, to think himself a man ? 
I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
To carry me, to fkn me while I sleep, 30 

And tremble when I wake, for all the wedtli 
That sinews bought and sold hs^ve ever varnH] 
No t dear as freedom is, and in my hoards 
Justji5J|infttion priz'd above all price, * 
L had much rather be mysoU" the slave, 35 

And wear the bonds, tlian fasten them on him. 
We have no slaves at liome.— Then why abroad ? 
And they tliemselves, once ferried o*er the wave 
That parts us, are emancipate and loos'd. 
Slaves cannot breathe in England ; if their lungs 40 
Receive our air, that moment they ore free ; 
They touch our country, and their shackles fall. 
That's noble, and bespeaks a nation proud 
And jealous of the blessing. Spread it, then, 
And let it circulate through ev*ry vein 45 

Of all your empire : that, where Britain's pow'r 
Is felt, mankind may feel her mercy too.* 
^ Sure there is need of _Bocigl intercourse, 



THE TIME-PIECE. 3.. 

BeiioTolence, and peace, and mutual aid, 
Between the nations, in a world that ■eoms GO 

To toll the death4)ell of its own aecoaso. 
And by the voice of all its elements 
To preach the gen'ral doom.* When were the winda 
Let slip ^ith such a warrant to destroy ? 
When did the waves so haughtily overleap 66 

Their ancient barriers, deluging the dry ? 
•Fires from beneath, and meteorst from abore. 
Portentous, unexampled, unexplained, 
Have kindled beacons in the skies ; .and th' 6id 
And crazy Earth has had her shaking fits 60 

l^lore frequent\ and foregone her usual rest, 
b it a time to wrangle, when the props 
^nd pillars of our planet seem to*fail, 
Knd Nature with a dim and sickly eyet 
To wait the close of all ? But grant her end 05 

^ore distant, and that prophecy demands 
k longer respite, imaccomplish'd yet ; 
£tiU they are frowning signals, and bespeak 
Displeasure in his breast who smites the Eaftli 
Or heals it, makes it languish or rejoice. fO 

And 'tis but seemly, that, where all deserve 
And stand expos'd by common peccancy 
To what no few have felt, there should be pettMi 
And brethren in c alam ity should love. 
Alas for Siciiy ! rude fragmenis now S5 

" Lie scattered, where the shapely columns steed. • 
Her palaces are dust. In all her streets 
The voice of singing and the sprightly chord 
Are silcst. Revelry, and dance, and show. 
Suffer a syncope\nd solemn pause ; W 

While God performs upon the trembling stage 
Of his own works his dreadful part alone. 
How does the earth receive him ? with what rigm 

* Alluding to the calamitiea in Jamaica, 
t Augost, 18, 1783. 

i Alluding to the fog that covered both Europe and Ami 
during the whole summer of 1783. 



32 THE TASK. 

Of gratulation and delight her kin^ ? 

Pours she not all her choicest fruits abroad, 86 

Her sweetest flow'rs, her aroraatick gums, 

Disclosing Paradise where'er he treads ? 

She quakes at his approach. Her hollow womb, 

Conceiving thunders, through a thousand de9ps 

And fiery caverns roars beneath his foot. 90 

The hills move lightly, and the mountains smoke, 

For he has touch'd them. From th' cztreniest point 

or elevation down into the abyss 

His wrath is bu^, and his frown is felt. 

The rocks fall headlong, and the valleys rise, 95 

The rivers' die into offcnsivo pools. 

And, chargM with putrid verdure, breathe a gross 

And mortal nuisance into all the air. 

What solid was, by transformation strange. 

Grows fluid ; and the fix'd and rooted earth, 100 

Tomiented into billows, heaves and swells. 

Or with Tortiginous and hideous v^irl 

Sacks down its. prey msatiable. Immense 

The' tumidt and the overthrow, the pangs 

And agonies of human and of brute 106 

Multitudes, fugitive on ev'ry side. 

And fugitive in vain. The sylvan scene 

Migrates uplifted : and, with all its so^ 

Alightmg in far distant fields, fin^s out 

A new possessor, and survives the change. 110 

0<;ean lias caught the frenzy, and, upwrought 

To an enormous and overbearing height. 

Not by a mighty wind, but by that voice 

Which winds and waves obey, invades the sf^re 

Resistless. Never such a sudden flood, 115 

Upridg'd so high, and sent on such a charge, 

Possess'd an inland scene. Where now the throng 

That pretend the beach, and, hasty to depart. 

Looked to the sea for safety ? They are gone, 

Gone with the refluent wave into the deep— 121 

A prince with half his people » Ancient tow'rs, 



THE TIME-PIECE. 38 

And roofs embattled high, the gloomy scones 
Where beauty oft and lettered worth consume 
Life in ther unproductive shades of deatli, 
Fall prone : the pale inhabit^ts come fortbi ISft 

And, happy in their unforeseen release 
From all the rigours of restraint, enjoy 
The terrours of the day that sets them free. 
Who, then, that has thee, would not hold thee fiat 
F reedom ! whom they that lose thee so regret, 130 
That e*en a judgment, making way for thee, 
Seems in their eyes a mercy for thy sake f 
Such evil Sin hath wrought ; and such a flame 
Kindled in Heav'n, that it burns down to Earth, 
And in the furious inquest that it makes 136 

On God's behalf, lays waste his fairest works. 
The very elements, though each be meant ^ 
The minister of man, to serve his wants, '{ 

Conspire against him. With his breath he draws 
A plague intahis blood ; and cannot use 140 

Life's necessary means, but he must die. 
Storms rise t' overwhelm him ; or if stormy winds 
Rise not, the waters of the deep shall rise. 
And, needing none assistance of the storm, 
Shall roll themselyes ashore, and reach him there. 145 
The earth shall shake him out of all his holds, 
Or make his house his grave : qor so content^ . 
Shall counterfeit the motions of the flood. 
And drown him in her dry and dusty gulfs. 
Wimt then ! — ^were they the wicked above all, ISO 
And we the righteous, whose fast-anohor'd isle 
Mov'd not, while theirs was rock'd, like a light skiff, 
The sport of every wave ? No ; none are clear, 
And none than we more guilty. But, where afl 
Stand chargeable with guilt, and to the diafts IBS 
Of wrath obnoxious, God may choose hie aiark i 
May punish, if he please, the less, to warn 
The more malignant. If he spar'd not \' 



34 ^ THE TASK. 

Treniblo and he amaz'd at tliine escape, • 
Far ffuiltier En^landj^ lest he spare not Iheo . 100 

'liajipy ihc man, who sees a God employed 
In all tlie good and ill that checker life I 
Resolving all events, with their effects 
And manifold results, into the will 
And arbitration wise of the Supreme. 105 

Did not his eye rule all things, cmd intend 
The least of our concerns ; (since from the least 
The greatest ofl originate ;) could chance 
Find place in his dominion, or dispose 
One lawless particle to thwart his plan ;. 170 

Then God might be surprised, and unforeseen 
Contlngcnce might alarm him, and disturb 
The smooth and equal course of his affairs. 
This trutli Philosophy, tliough eagle-ey'd 
In nature's tendencies, od overlooks ; 175 

And, having found his instrument, forgets. 
Or disregards^ or, more presumptuous still, 
Ponies the power that wields it. God proclaimt 
His hot cjispleasuro against foolish men, 
That live an atlieist life ; involves the Heavens 189 
In tempests ; quits his grasp i^pon the winds, 
And gives them all their fury ', bids a plague 
Kindle a fiery bile upon the skin. 
And ^>utrcfy tlie breath of blooming Health. 
Ho calls for Famine, and the meagre fiend 185 

Jilows mildew from botvveen his shrivell'd lips, 
And taints the golden ear. He sprhigs his miiiot| 
And desobtes a nation at a blast.- 
Forth steps the spruce Philosopher, and tolls 
Of homogeneal and discordant springs, - ' 190 

And principles ; of causes how they work 
By necessary laws tlieir sure effects 
Of action and reaction : he has found 
The source of the disease that nature feeJi, 
And bids the world take heart and banish &ar. 1^5 



THK TfMK-PlKCK. 35 

Thou fool ? will- thy disqov'rj' of the cause 
Suspend th* eifect, or heal it ? Has not God 
Still wrought by means since first he made tlio world 
And did he not of old employ his means 
To drown it ? What is his creation less, 200 

Than a capacious reservoir of means, 
Form*^d for his use, and ready at his will ? 
Go, dress thine eyes with eye -salve ; ask of Him, 
Or ask of whomsoever he has taught.; 
And learn, though late, the genuine cause of all. 205 

£nghuid^witlLAll thy faults, I love thee still — 
My comitiy4 and, w hil e- yet^a^took-isJeft^ 
Where English minds and manners may be found, 
Shall bfr c«fiSirtiih*d to^Tove thee. Though thy clime 
Be fickfe, and thy year most part dcform'd 210 

With dripping rains, or withered by a frost, 
I would not yet exchange thy sullen skfes. 
And fields without a flow*r, for warmer France 
With all her vines : nor for Ausonia's groves 
Of golden fruitage, and her myrtle bow*rs. 215 

To shake thy senate, and from heights subUmo 
Of patrkyt eloquence to flash down fire 
Upon thy foes, was never meant my task : 
But I can feel thy fortunes, and partake 
Thy joys and sorrows, with as true a heart 220 

As any thund'rer there. And I can feel 
Thy follies too ; and with a just disdain 
Frown at effeminates, whose very looks 
Reflect dishonour on the land I love. 
How in the name of soldiership and sense, 225 

Should England prosper, when such things, as smooth 
And tender as a girl, ail essenc*d o*er 
With odours, and as profligate as sweet ; 
Who sell their laurel for a m3rrtle wreath, 
And love when tliey Aould fight : when such an those 
Presume to lay their hand upon the ark 2:Jl 

Of her magnificent and awful cause ^ 
Time was when it wa» nraise and boast enough 



3G THE TASK. 

In every clime, and travel where we might, 

That wo were born her children. Praiao enovgh 235 

To fill th' ambition of a private man 

That Chatham's language was his mother-tongne, 

And Wolfe's great name compatriot with his own. 

Farewell those honours, and farewell with them 

The hope of such hereafler ! Thej have lairs 240 

Each in his field of glory ; one in arms, 

And one m council — ^Wolfe upon the lap 

Of smiling Victory that moment won, 

And Chatham heart-sick of his country's riiaine ! 

They made us many soldiers. Chatham, Mill 24S 

Consulting England's happiness at home, 

Secured it by an unforgiving frown. 

If any wrong'd her. Wolfe, where'er he fou^^ 

Put so much of his heart into his act, 

That his example had a magnet's force, S30 

And all were swift to follow whom all lov'd^ 

Those suns are set. O rise some other sueh*? 

Or all that we liave left is empty talk 

Of old achievements and despair of new. 

Now hoist the sail, and let the streamers floai 255 
Upon the wanton breezes. Strew the deck 
With lavender, and sprinkle liquid Bweet9» 
That no rude savour maritime invade 
The nose of r^ice nobility ! Breathe soft, 
Ye clarionets ; and softer still, ye flutes ; 260 

Tiiat winds and waters, lull'd by magick soufiif, 
May bear us smoothly to the Gallic shore. 
True, we have lost an empire — ^let it pass* 
True, we may thank the perfidy of Fraacd, 
That pick'd the jewel out of England's crewn^ ^HSi 
With all the cmming of an envious shrew* 
And let that pass — 'twas but a trick o£ stat^^ 
A brave man knows no malice, biit at once 
Aorgets in peace the injuries of war. 
And gives his direst foe a friend's embrace. 270 

And sham'd as wo have been, to th' very hetird . 



THE TIME-PIECE. 97 }] 

•Brav d and defied, and in our own sea prov'd " 
Too weak for those decisive blows that once 
Ensur'd us mast'ry there, we yet retain 1 

Some small pre-eminence ;/we justly boast 27S 

At least superiour jockeyship, and claim 

The honours of the turf as all our own ! [ ' ' 

Go, then, well worthy of the praise ye seek, I ! 

And show the shame ye might conceal at home, < 

In foreign eyes ' — be grooms and win the plate, 290 I 

Whore once your nobler fathers won a crown * — i j 

Tis gcn'raus to communicate your skill [j 

To those that need it. Folly is soon learned : J 
And under such pi;ecRptora who can fail ? T^fW . 

There is a pleasure in poetick pains, Tfeeb 

Wliich only poets know. The shifts and turns, 
Th' expedients and inventions multiform, 
To which the mind resorts, in chase of to^mB, 
Though apt, yet coy, and difficqlt to win — 
T' arrest the fleeting images, that fill 200 

The mirror of the mind, and hold them fast, 
And force them sit, till he has pencil'd o^T 
A faithful likeness of the forms he views ; 
Then to dispose his copies with such art. 
That each may find its most propitious light, 3% 

And shine by situation, hardly less 
Than by the labour and the skill it cost ; 
Are occupations of the poet's mind 
So pleading, and that gteal away^the thought, 
With such address from themes of sad import, 300 
That, lost in his own musings, happy man ! 
He feels the anxieties of life denied 
Their wonted entertainment ; all retire. 
Such joys has he that sings. But ah ! not such, 
Or seldom such, the hearers of his song. 30$ 

Fastidious, or else listless, or perhaps 
Aware of nothing arduous in a task 
They never undertook, they little note 
His dangers or escapes, and haply find 

Vol. U 4 



38 THE TASK. 

Their least amusement where he found the moit 310 

But ii amusement all ? Studious of song, 

And yet ambitious not to sing in vain, 

I would not trifle merely, tliough the world 

Be loudest in their praise who do no more. 

Yet what can satire, whether grave or gay ? ^ 315 

It may correct a foible, may chastise 

Tlie freaks of fashion, regulate the dross, 

Retrench a sword-blade, or displace a patch ; 

But where jire its sublimer trophies found ? 

What vice has it subdued ? whose heart reclaim*d 390 

By rigour, or whom laugh'd into reform? 

Alas ! Leviathan is not so tam'd : 

LaughM at, he laughs ag^in ; and stricken hard, 

Turns to the stroke his adamantine scales. 

That fear no discipline of human hands. 325 

The pulpily therefore — (and I name it fill'd 
With solemn awe, that bids me well beware 
With what intent I touch that holy thing) — 
The pulpit — (when the satirist has at last. 
Strutting and vaporing in an empty school, 330 

Spent all his force, and made no proselyte)-^ 
I say the pulpit (in the sober use 
Of its legitimate peculiar pow'rs) 
Must stand acknowledged, while the \irorld shall stand. 
The most important and efiectual guard, 835 

Support, and ornament, of Virtue's cause. 
There stands the mefsenger of truth ; there stands 
The legate of the skies ! — His theme divine, 
His office sacred, his credentials clear. 
By him the violated law speaks out 340 

Its thunders : and by him, in strains as sweet * 
As angels use, the Gospel whispers peace. 
He Establishes the strong, restores the weak, 
Reclaims the wand'rer, binds the broken heart. 
And, arm'd himself In panoply complete 345 

Of heav*nly temper, furnishes with arms 
Bright as his own, and trains, by every rule 



THE TIME-PIECE. 39 

Of holy discipline, to glorious war 
The sacramental host of God's elect : ^ 3^ 

Are all such teachers ? — ^would to Heav'n all were ! 
Bat hark— the doctor's voice ! — fast wed^*d between 
Two empiricks he stands, and with swoln cheeks 
Inspires the news, his trumpet. Keener far 
Than all mvective is his bold harangue, 
While through that publick organ of report SH 

He hails the clergy ; and, defying shame, 
Announces to the world his own and theirs ! 
He teaches those to read whom schools difmini'd, 
And colleges, untaught : sells accent, tone. 
And emphasis in score, and giyes to pray'r 360 

Th' adagio and andante it demands. 
He grinds divinity of other days 
Down into modern use ; transforms old prlni 
To zigzag manuscript, and cheats the eyes 
Of gall'ry critics by a thousand arts. 366 

Are thMre ^o purchase of the doctor's ware ? 
O, name it not in Gath ! — it cannot be, 
That grave kmd learned clerks should need saeh aid. 
He doubtless is in sport, and does but droll. 
Assuming thus a rank unknown before— 370 

Grand caterer and dry-nurse of the choKh ! 
I venerate the man, whose heart is warm, 
Whose hands are pure, whose doctrine and whesd liSbp 
Coincident, exhibit lucid proof 
That he is honest in the sacred cause. 876 

To such [ render more than mete respect, 
Whose actions say that they respect themselves. 
But loose in morahi and in manners vain. 
In conversation frivolous, in dress 
Extreme at once rapacious and profuse ; 380 

Frequent in park with lady at his side. 
Ambling and prattling scandal as he goes; 
But rare at home, and never at his books. 
Or with his pen, savo when he scrawls a card ; 
Constant at routs, familiar with a round 385 



^^ 



4U THV: TASK 

Of ladyships, a stranger to the poor j 

Ajnbiti(fas of profermcnL for its gold, 

And well prcpar'd, by ignorance and sloth, 

By infidelity and love of world, 

To make, God's work a sinecure ; a slave 390 

To his own pleasures and his patron's pride } 

From such apostles, O ye mitred heads^ 

Preserve the church Pan J lay not careless jiancls 

On skulfstTiat cannot tea ch, and ' will notleam. 

Would r^escriKe a* preacher, sucB as Faul, 395 
Were he on Earth, would hear, approve, and owiiy 
Paul should himself direct mo. I would trace 
His master-strokes, and draw from his design. 
I wouM express him simple, grave, sincere ; 
In doctrine unoorrupt ; in language plain, 400 

And plain in manner ; decent, solenm, chaste, 
And natural In gesture ; much impressed 
Himself, as conscious of his awful charge^ 
And anxious mainly that the flock he feeds 
May ieel it too ; affectionate in look, • 406 

And tender in address, as well becomes 
A messenger of grace to guilty men. ^ 

Behold the picture ! — Is it like ? — Like whom ? \ 
The things that mount the rostrum with a skip, \ 
And then skip down again ; pronounce a text i )4I0 
Cry — ^hem ; and, reading what they never wrote / 
Just fifl^eu minutes, huddle up their work, / 

And with a well-bred whisper close the scene ! j 

In man or woman, but far most in man, 
And most of all in man that ministers 416 

And serves the altar, in my soul I loathe 
All affectation. 'Tis my perfect scorn ', 
Object of my implacable disgust. 
What ! — will a man play tricks — will he indulge 
A silly fond conceit of his fair form, 430 

And just proportion, fashionable mien. 
And pretty face, in presence of his God ? 
Or will he seek to dazzle me with ticpes. 



THE TIME-PIECE. 41 

As with the diamond on his Hlj hand, 
And phiy his brilliant parts before my eyes, 425 

When I am hungry for the bread of life ? 
He mocks his Maker, prostitutes and shames 
His nobfe office, and, instead of truth, 
Displaying his ovm beauty, starves hb flock. 
Therefore avaunt all attitude and stare, 430 

And start theatrick, practis'd at the glass ! 
I seek divine simplicity in him 
Who handles things divine ; and all besides, 
Though leam'd with labour, and though much admir'd 
By carious eyes and judgments ill-inform'd, 435 

To me is odious as the nasal twang 
Heard at conventicle where worthy men, 
Misled by custom, strain celestial themes 
Through the press'd nostril, spcctacle-bestrid. 
Some, decent in demeanour while they preach| 440 
That task performed, relapse into themselves ; 
And, having spoken wisely, at the close 
Grow wanton, and give proof to ev'ry eye. 
Whoe'er was edify 'd, themselves were not ! 
Forth comes the pockef-mirror. First we stroke 445 
An eyebrow ; next compose a straggling lock , 
Then with an air most gracefully perform'd| 
Fall back into our seat, extend an arm, 
And lay it at its ease with gentle care. 
With handkerchief in hand depending low ; 450 

The better hand more busy gives the nose 
Its bergamot, or aids th' indebted eye 
With op'ra glass, to watch the moving scene, 
And recognise the slow retiring fair. — 
Now this is fulsome ; and ofibnds me more 455 

Than in a churchman slovenly neglect 
And rustic coarseness would. A heavenly mkud 
May be indiff^nt to her house of day, 
And slight the hovel as beneath her eare ; 
Bat how a body so fimtastic, trim, 460 

4» 



42 m^' TASK. 

And quaint, in its deportuient ami attire, 

Can lodge a heav'nly mind — demands a doubt. 

He tkal negotiates between Grod and man, 
As God's ambassador^ the grand concerns 
Of judgment and of mercy, should beware 465 

Of lightness in his ^eoch. . *Tia pitiful 
To court a grin, when you should woo a »otd : 
To break a jest, when pity would inspire 
Pathetick exhortation ; and t' address 
The skittish fkncy with facetiotts tales, 470 

When sent with God's commission to tins Itetat I 
So did not Paul. Direct me to a quip 
Or merry turn in all he erer wrote. 
And I consent you take it for your text, 
Tour only one, till sides and benches fail. 475 

Ifo : he was serious in a serioua cause. 
And understood too well the weighty terms, 
That he had ta'en in charge. He wavAd notftofap ' 
To conquer those by jocular exploitsj 
Whom truth and soberness asdail'd in vain. f80 

O Popular Applause ! wlnft heart of mas 
Is proof against thy Bweet seducing charms? 
The wisest and the best feel urgent need 
Of .all their cautien in thy gentlest gates-; 
But swell'd into a gust — who, then, alas ! 485 

With all his tanvass set, and inexpert. 
And therefore heedless, can withstand thy |iO(w^ ? 
Praise from the riv^'d lips of toothless, bcdd 
Decrepitude, and in the lobks <^ lean 
And craving Poverty, and in the how 490 

Respectful of the smutch'd artificer. 
Is oft too welcome and may much distnfb 
The bias of the purpose. How much more, 
Pour'd forth by beauty splendid and poIit», 
In language soft as Adoration breathes ? 495 

Ah, spare your idol, think him Ituman still* 
Charms he may have, but ho has frailties too ! 
Dote not too much nor spoil what ye admire. ^ 



■.=Ji 



THE TIME;P1ECE. 43 

All truth is from the sempiternal source 
Of light divine. But Egypt, Greece, and Rome, 600 
Drew from the stream below. More favour'di we 
Drink when we choose it, at the fountain head. 
To them it flow'd much mingled and defil'd 
With hurtful errour, prejudice, and dreams 
Illu^ve of philosophy, so caU'd> G05 

But fiilsely.. Sages after sages strove 
In vain to filter off a crystal draught 
Pure from the lees, which often more enhanced 
The thirst than slak'd it, and not seldom bred 
Intoxication and delirium wild. 510 

In vain they push'd inquiry to the birth 
And spring-time of the world ', ask'd, Whence is man ' 
Why form'd at all ^ and wherefore as he is ? 
Where must he find his maker ? with what ritei 
Adore him ? Will he hear, accept, and bless ? 515 

Or does he sit regardless of his works.'* 
Has man within him an immortal seed ? 
Or does the tomb take all ? If he survive 
His ashes, where ? and in what weal or wo ? 
Knots worthy of solution, which ijone 5S0 

A Deity could solve. Their answers, vague 
And all at random, fabulous and dark, 
Left them as dark themselves. Their rulee of li£i 
Defective and unsanctioned, prov'd too weak 
To bind the roving appetite, and lead 605 

Blind nature to a God not yet revcal'd. 
Tis Revelation satisfies all doubts. 
Explains all mysteries, except her own. 
And so illuminates tlie path of life 
That fools discover it, and stray no more. 530 

Now tell me, dignified and sapient sir. 
My man of morals, nurtured in the shades 
Of Academus — ^is this false or true ? 
is Christ the abler teacher or the schools 
If Christ, then why resort at ev'ry turn 55B 

To Athens, or to Rome, for wisdom shore 



44 THE TASK. ' 

Of mui*8 occasions, when in him reside 

Grace, knowledge, comfort — an unfathom*d store f 

How ofl, when Paul has serv'd us with a text, 

Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully, preached ! 54Q 

Men that, if now alive, would sit content 

And humble learners of a Saviour's worth, 

Preach it who might. Such was their love of truUi, . 

Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour loo. 

And thus it is. — ^Tho pastor, either vain 541 

By nature, or by fiatt'ry made so, taught 
To gaze at his own splendour, and t* exalt 
Absurdly, not his office, but himself; 
Or unenHghton'd and too proud to learn ; 
Or vicious, and not therefore apt to teach ; 560 

Perverting oflcn by the stress of lewd 
And loose example, whom he should instruct ; 
Exposes, and holds up to broad disgrace, 
The noblest ftinction, and discredits much 
The brightest truths that man has ever scon. 555 

For ghostly counsel ; if it either fall 
Below tho exigence, or be not back'd 
With riiow of love, at least with hopeful proof 
Of some sincerity on the- giver's part ; 
Or be dishonour'd in th' exteriour form 560 

And mode of its conveyance, by such trickf 
As move derision, or by foppish airs 
And histrionick mumm*ry that let down 
The pulpit to the level of the stage ; 
Drops from the lips a disregarded thing. 56S 

The weak perhaps are mov'd, but are not taught 
While prejudice in men of stronger minds 
Takes deeper root, confirmed by what they see. 
A relaxation of religion's hold 

Upon the roving and untutor'd he^rt 57U 

Soon follows, and, the curb of conscience snapp'd 
The laity run wild. But do they now ? 
Note their extravagance, and be convinced- 

As nations, ignorant of God, contrivo 



THE TIME-PIECE. 45 

A wooden one : so we, no longer taught 575 

By monitors, that mother church supplies, 
Now make our own. Posterity will ask, 
(If o'er posterity see verse of mine,) * 
Some fifty or a hundred lustrums hence, 
What wa§ a monitor in George's days ? 580 

My very gentle reader, yet unborn. 
Of whom I needs must augur better things, 
Since Heav'n would sure grow weary of a world 
Productive only of a race like ours, 
A monitor is wood — plank shaven thin. 585 

We w'car it at our backs. There, closely brac'd 
And neatly fitted, it compresses hard 
The prominent and most unsightly bones, 
And binds the shoulder flat. We prove its use 
Sov'roign and most cflectual to secure 590 

A form, not now gymnastick as of yore, 
From rickets, and distortion, else our lot. 
But thus admonish'd, we can walk erect — 
One proof at least of manhood 1 wliile the friend 
Sticks close, a Mentor worthy of his charge. 595 

Our habits, costlier than Lucullus wore, 
And by caprice as multiplied as his, 
Just please us while the fashion is at full, 
But change with ev'ry moon. The sycophanti 
Who waits to dress us, arbitrates tlicir date ; COO 

Surveys his fair reversion with keen eye ; 
Finds one ill made, another obsolete, 
This fits not nicely, that is ill conceiv'd ; 
And, maklng'prize of all that ho condemns, 
With our expenditure defrays his own. 605 • 

ATariety's the very spice of \\f^,\ « 

That gives it ajl its flavour. We have run 
Through ev'ry change, that Fancy at llie loom* 
Exliaiisted, has had genius to supply ; • 
And studious of mutation still, discard CIO 

.A real elegance, a little us'd, 
For monstrous novelty and strange disguise 



46 THE TASK. 

Wo sacrifice to dress, till household joys 

And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar drji 

And k«0ps our larder lean ; puts out our fires; 615 

And introduces hunger, frost, and wo, 

Where peace and hospitality might reign. 

What man tliat lives, and that knows how to live, 

Would fail t' exhibit at the publick shows 

A form fts splendid as the proudest there, 620 

Though appetite raise outcries at the cost ? 

A man o* th' town dines late, but soon enough, 

With reasonable forecast and despatch, 

T' ensure a side-box station at half price. 

You. think, perhaps, so delicate his dress, C25 

His daily fare as delicate. Alas ! 

He picks clean teeth, and, busy as he seems 

With an old tavern quill, is hungry yet ! 

The rout is Folly's circle, which she draws 

With magick wand. So potent is the spell, 630 

That none, decoyM into that fatal ring, 

Unless by Heav*n's peculiar grace, escape. 

There we grow early gray, but never wise; 

There form connexions^ but accjuufi ^ tf tf B^ » 

Solicit pleasure hopeless of success ; - 635 

Waste youth in occupations only fit 

For second childhood, and devote old age 

To sports, which only childhood coul^cxcuse. 

There, they are happiest who dissemble t>est 

Their weariness ; and they the most polite C4d , 

Who squander time and treasure with a smile, 

Though at tlieir own destruction. She that asks 

He** dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, 

And hates their coming. They (what can they loss f) 

Make just reprisals ; and with cringe and shrug, 648 

And bow obsequious, hide their hate of her. 

All catch the/renzy, downward from her grace, 

Whose flambeaux flash against the morning skies, 

And gild our chamber ceilings as they pass. 

To her, who, frugal only that her thrift 650 



THE TIME-PI KCE. f9 

May f*ed excesses she caa ill atford, 
is hacknejr'd home unlackey'd ; wlio, in haste 
Alighting, turns the key in her own door, 
And, at the watchman's lantern borrowiiig light, 
Finds a cold hed her only comfort left. 655 

Wives beggar husbands, husbands starve their wives, 
On Fortune's velvet altar ofTring up 
Tlieir last poor pittance — Fortune, most severe 
Of goddesses yet known, and costlier far 
Than all that held their routs in Juno's Heav'n. — 660 
So fare we in tl yp pfi^n-house^ the World : 
And *ti8 a fearful spectacle to see 
Bo many maniacks dancing in their chains. 
They gaze upon the links, that hold them fast, 
With eyes of anguish, execrate their lot, 665 

Then shake them in despair, and dance again * 

Now basket up the family of plagues, 
That waste our vitals ; peculation, sale 
Of honour, perjury, corruption, frauds 
By forgery, by subterfuge of law, ' 670 

By tricks and lies as numerous and as keen 
As tl)e necessities their authors feel : 
Then cast them, closely bundled, ev'ry brat 
At the right door. Profusion is the sire. 
Profusion unrcstrain'dj^ with alllhat's basc^ 675 

in character, has litter'd all the land. 
And bred, within the mern'ry oi* no iew, 
A priesthood, such as Baal's was of old, 
\ peopld, siich as never was till now. 
U is a hungry vice : — it eats up all 660 

That gives society its beauty, strength, 
Convenience, security, and use : 
.Hakes men mere vermin, worthy to bo trapped 
4lnd gibbeted, as fast as catchpole claws 
Can seize the slippery prey : unties tho knot 685 

Of union, and converts tlie sacred band 
That holds mankind together, to a scourge. 
Profusion deluging a state with lu^w / 



43 THK TASK. 

Of groesost nature and of worst effects, 

Prepares it for its ruin : hardens, blinds, 6U^ 

And warps, the consciences of publick men, 

Till they can laugh at Virtue ; mock the fool* 

That trust them ; and in th' end disclose a fac^, 

That would have shock'd Credulity herself. 

Unmask'd, vouchsafing this their sole excuse — C95 

Since all ahke are selfish, why not they ? 

This does Profusion, and th' accursed cause 

Of such deep mischief has itself a cause. 

In coHeges and halls in ancient days, 
When learning, virtue, piety, and truths 700 

Were precious and inculcated with care, 
There dwelt a sage call'd pigciplipfl. His head. 
Not yet by time completely silver'd o*er. 
Bespoke him past the bounds of freakish youth^ 
But strong for service still, and unimpair'd. 705 

His eye was meek and gentle, and a smile - 
Play*d on his lips ; and in his speech was hear4 
Paternal sweetness, dignity, and love 
The occupation dearest to his heart 
Was to encourage goodness. IJe would stroke 710 
The head of modest and ingenious worth, 
That blush'd at his own praise : and press t|ie youth 
Close t6 hie side that pleas'd him. Learning grew 
Beneath his care, a thriving vig'rous plant ; 
The mind was well informed, the p assions held , 715 
Subordinate, and diligence was^clipice. 
If e'er it chancM, as sometimes chance it must. 
That one among so many overleaped 
The limits of control, his gentle eye 
Grew stem, and darted a severe rebuke ; 720 

His frown was full of terrour, and his voice 
Shook the delinquent with such fits of avkro, 
As loft him not, till penitence had won 
Lost favour back again, and clos'd the breach. 
But Discipline, a faithful servant long, 725 

Declined at length into t-lio vale of years • 



' THE TIMEPIECE 49 

A palsy struck his arm ; his sparklingr oye 
Was quenched in rheums of aje ; his Yoice, unsinuig* 
Grew tremulous, and mov'd derision more 
Than rev'rence, in perverse rebellious jouth. 73tt 

So colleges and halls neglected much 
Their good old friend ; and Discipline at lengthy 
^^'erlook*d and unemployed, fell sick and died. 
Then Study languished, Emulation slept. 
And Virtue fled. The schonla became a scene 7% 
Of jBolemn ferce . where Igncu^uice in stilts, 
His cap well lin'd yrith logick not his own, 
With parrot tongue perform'd the scholar's part, 
Proceeding soon a graduated dunce. 
Then compromise had place, and scrutiny 740 

Became stone blind ; precedence went in trucK, 
And he was cspVipetent whose pur^e was so. 
A ^ssolution of all bonds ensued ; 
The curbs invented for the mulish mouth 
Of headstrong youth were broken ', bars and bolts 745 
Grew rusty by disuse ; and massy gates 
Forgot their office, op'ning with a touch ; 
Till gowns at length, are found mere masquerade, 
The tassel'd cap and the spruce band a jest, 
A mock'ry of the world ! What need of these 750 

For gamerters, jockeys, brothelers impure, 
Spendthrifts, and booted sportsmen, ofl'ner seen 
With belted waist and pointers at their heels. 
Than in the bounds of duty ' What was learn'd, 
If aught was leam'd in childhood, is^orgot * 750 

And soch expense, as pineries parents blue, 
And mortifies the liberal hand of love. 
Is sqiundor/d in pursuit of idle sports 
A.nd vicious pleasures ; buys the boy a name 
That sits a stigma on hiF fkther's house, ' 760 

And cleaves through life inseparably close 
To him that wears it. What can after games 
Of riper joys, and commerce with the world, 
Vol. II. 5 



iSSSi 



50 THE TASK. 

Tho lewd vain worlcj, that must receive him soon. 

Add to such erudition, thus acquired, 76S 

Where science and where virtue are professed ? 

They may confirm his habits, rivet fast 

His foUy, but to spoil him is a task 

That bids defiance to th' united powers 

Of fashion, dissipation, taverns, stews. 770 

Now blame we most the nurselings or tho jomsj}/ 

The children crook'd, and twisted, and deformed, 

Through want of care ; or her, whose winkmg eye 

And slumb'ring oscitancy mars the j^rood ? 

The nurse, no doubt. Regardless of her chargei 775 

She needs herself correction ; needs to learn 

That it is dang'rous sporting with the world, 

With things so sacred as a nation's trust. 

The nurture of her youth, her dearest pledge. 

All are not such. I had a brother once — 780 

Peace to the memory of a man of worth, 
A man of letters, and of manners too ! 
Of manners sweet as Virtue always wears, 
When gay good-natured dresses her in smiles. 
He grac'd a college,* in which order yet 785 

Was sacred ; and was honour'd, lov'd, and wept 
By more than one, themselves conspicuous there. 
Borne minds are tempered happily, and mix*d 
With such ingredients of good sense, and taste 
Of what is excellent in man, they thirst 790 

With such a zeal to be what they approve, 
That ho restraints can circumscribe them more 
Than they themselves by choice, for wisdom's soke. 
Nor can example hurt them ; what they see 
Of vice ir others but enhancing more 79S 

The charms of virtue in their just esteem. 
If such escape contagion, and emerge 
Pure from so foul a pool to shine abroad, 
And give the world their talents and thomselvee 
Bene'lCoU Cambridge. 



THE TIME-PIECE. 51 

Small tliank« to those whose negligence or sloth 3Q0 
ExpQsM their Inexperience to the snare, 
And lefl them to an undirected choice. 

See then the guJTQ r broken and decay 'd, 
In which are kept our arrows ! Rusting there 
In wild disorder, and unUt for use, 805 

What wonder, if discharged into the world, *• 

They shame their'shooters with a random flight, 
Their points obtuse, and feathers drunk with wine ! 
Well may the church wage unsuccessful war 
With such artill'ry arm'd. Vice parries wide 810 
Th* undreaded volley with a sword of straw^ 
And stands an impudent and fearless mark. 
Have we not track'd the felon home, and found 
(^,iiM His birthplace and his dam ? The country mourns, 

Mourns because ev'ry plague that can infest 815 

Society, and that saps and worms the base 

Of tl^ ediiice that policy has rais'd, 

•Swarms In all quarters : meets the eye, the ear, 

And suffocates the breath at ev'ry turn. 

Profusion breeds Uiem ; and the cause it&elf 820 

Of that calamitous mischief has been found : 

Found, too, where most otfensive, in the skirts 

Of tlie rob'd pedagogue ! "Else let th' arraign 'd 

Stand up unconscious, and refute the charge. 

So when the Jewish leader stretched his arm, 8S5 

And wav'd his rod divine, a race obscene. 

Spawned in the muddy beds of Nile, came forth, 

Polluting Egypt : gardens, fields, and plains. 

Were covered with the pest ; the streets were fiird ; 

The croaking nuisance lurk'd in ev'ry nook ; 83C 

Nor palaces, nor even chambers, 'Ecap'd ; 

4nd the land stank--so num'rous was the &y. 



THE TASK. 



THE GARDEN. 



ARGUMENT OF THE THIRD BCiOK. 

Self-recollectlon, and leproof— Addresi to domettiek happineat^ 
Somo account of mytelf— The vanity of many of their pur8uit% 
who are reputed wise — Justification of my censures — ^Divine if* 
lumination necessary to the most expert philosopher. — Theqaef> 
tion, What ii truth { answered by other nuostiona— Doihestick 
happiness addressed again — Few lb^rer8 of tne eouiitry< — My tame 
hare— Occupations of a retired centleman in his ffarden— Prnmag 
— Framin9--Groenhou80— Sowing of flower seeds — ^The country 
preferable to the town even in the winter — Reasons why it u 
deserted at that season — Ruinous efleets of gaiming and ef 9Z* 
pensive improvement'— Book concludes with an apostrophe totha 
metropolis. 



AS one, who long in thickets and in brdces 

Entangled, winds now this waj and now that 

His devious course uncertain, seeking home; 

Or having long in miry ways been foiPd . 

And sore discomfited, from slough to slough S 

Plimghig, and half despairing of escape ; 

if chance at length he find a greensward smooth 

And faithful to the foot, his spirits rise, 

Ho chcrups brisk his car-erecting steed, 

And winds his way with pleasure and with ease . W ' 

So I, designing other themes, and call'd 

T' ailorn the Sofa with culogium due, 



THE GAKUjii^. 53 

To tell its slumbers, and to paint its dreams, 
Have rambled wide. In country, city, seat 
Of academic^ fame, (howe'er deserved,) 16 

Long held, and scarcely disengaged at last : 
But now with pleasant pace a cleanlier road 
I mean to tread. I*feel myself at large, 
Courageous, and refresh'd for future toil, 
If toil await me, or if dangers new. 20 

Since pulpits fail, and sounding boards reflect 
Most part an empty ineffectual sound. 
What chance that I, to fame so little known, 
Nor conversant with men or manners much, 
Should speak to purpose, or with better hope 25 

Crack the satirick thong ? *Twere wiser far 
For me, enamoured of sequester 'd scenes, 
And charm'd with rural beauty, to repoje 
Where chance may throw me, beneath elm hr Tine 
My languid limbs ; when summer sears the plains ; 30 
Or, when rough winter rages, on the soil 
And shelter'd Sofa, while the nitrous air 
Feeds a blue flame, and makes a cheerful hearth ; 
There, undisturbed by Folly, and apprized 
How great the danger of disturbing her, 36 

To muse in silence, or at least confine 
Remarks, that gall so many, to the few 
My partners in retreat. Disgust conceal'd 
Is ofttimes proof of wisdom, when the fault 

Is obstinate, and cure beyond our reach. 40 

Dbmestick happiness, thou only bliss 

Of Paradise, that has surriT'd the fall ! 

Though few now taste thee unimpaired and pure 

Or tasting, long enjoy thee ! too infirm, 

OftoonicauUous, to preserve thy sweets 45 

Unmix'd with drops of bitter, which neglect 

Or temper sheds into thy crystal cup ; 

Thou art the nurse of Virtue— in thine arms - 

She smiles, appearing, as in truth she is, 

Heav'n-bom, and destined to the skies again. 60 

5« 



64 THE TASK. 

Thou art not known where Pleasure is ador d, 

That reeling goddess, vrith the zoncless wmtst 

And wandVing eyes, still leaning on the arm 

Of PJovelty, her fickle, frail support ^ > 

For thou art meek and constant, hating change, 66 

And finding in the calm of truth-tHed lovtf, 

Joys tliat her stormy raptures i»ver yield. 

Forsaking thee, what fthipwrwk have we maik 

Of honour, 4i^ity, and fair renown ! 

Till prostitution elbows us aside 60 

In all our crowded streets ; and senates seent 

Convened for purposes of empire less 

Than to release the adulteress from her bond. 

Th* adulteress ! what a tlieme for angry verse ! 

What provocation to th' indignant heart, . €5 

That feels for injur'd love ! but I disdain 

The nauseous task to paint her as she is, 

Cruel, abandoned, glorying in her shame ? 

No : — let her pliss, and, charioted along 

In guilty splendour, shake the pnblick wa3r8 ; 7Q 

The frequency of crimes has wash'd them whitei 

And verse of mine riiall never brand the wretch, 

Whom matrons now of character unsmirch'd 

And chaste themselves, are not asham'd to own*. 

YixU»'M^d vice had jound*ries in old tilM« ^ 

Not to be pass'd : and she that had renounced 

Her sex's honour, was renounced herself 

By all that priz'd it ; not for prud'ry's sake 

But dignity's, resentful of the wrong. 

'Twas hard perhaps on here and there a waif, €0 

Desirous to return and not received * 

But was a whc^esome rigour in the main, 

And taught Ut' unblemished to preserve with care ' 

That purity, wliose loss was loss of all. 

Men too were nice in honour in those days, 86 

And judg'd offenders well. Then he that sharped, - 

And pocketed a prize by fraud obtain'd, 

Was mark'd and ahunn'd as odious. Ho that sold 



THE GARDEN. » 

HU country, or was Black when she reqnir'd 
His ey*r7 nerve in action and at Btretch, BO 

Paid with the blood that he had basely spared 
The price of hie de&ult. But now — yeSji|QW 
We are become so candid and so fair 
So li b*ralin coastrtfction. ami so rich 
In'cfinstian charity^ (good natur'd age !) 96 

Thatthey are safe j sinners of eitHer sex 
Trsnfigress what laws they may. IWell dreM'di %^ 

bred, '> ^"- - 

Well equipa^(J, la.tlQket^ood encmgl^ 
To pass as readily tJurough cv'ry'door^ 
Hypocrisy, detest her as we maji 100 

(^d no man's hatred ever wroiig;d her yet, 
May claim this merit still — ^that she admits 
The worth of what she^mimicks^ with such eare. 
And thus gives virtue indirect applause ; 
But she has burnt her mask;, not needed here^ 10& 
' ^ Where vice Kas such allowanco, that her shifts 
AndlBpecious semblances have lost their use. 

T'Ws a stricken deer, that left the^herd 
hong^S^e, With many an arrow deep infixed 
Klypanting side was charged, when I withdrew 110 
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades, 
'''here was I found by one who hod himself 
Been hurt by th' archers. In his side he botr^ 
And in his hands and feet, the cruel scars. 
With gentle force soliciting the darts, 115 

He drew them forth, and heal'd, and bade me lira. 
Since then, with few ass ociates, in remote 
Aiad silent woods I wander, far from those 
My former partners of the peopled ocextB ; 
With few associates, and not wishing more. 120 

Here much I ruminate, as much I may, 
With dther views of men and manners now 
Than once, and others of a life to oome * 
I see tliat all are wand'rers, gone astraf 
Gacli ia his own delusions } they are lost 125 



66 THE TASK. 

In -chase of fancied happiness, still woo'd 
And never won. Dream after dream ensues ; 
And still thej dream that they shall ^ili succeed, 
And still are disappointed. Rings the world 
With the vain stir. I sum up half manxind IM 

And add two thirds of the remaining half, 
And find the total of their hopes and fe^ya. 
DreMUS^ empty^reama. The million flit as gay, 
As if created only like the fly, 

That spreads his motley wings in th' eye of noon,.135 
To sport their season, and be seen no more. 
The rest are y)ber dreame rs, grave and wise, 
And pregnant with discoveries new and rare. 
Some write a narrative of wars, and feats 
Of heroes little known ; and call the rant 140 

A history : describe the man, of whom 
His own coevals took but little note, 
And paint his person, character, and views^ 
As they had known him from his mother's womb. 
They disentangle from the puzzled skein, 145 

In which obscurity haff wrapp'd them up. 
The threads of poUtick and shrewd design, 
That ran through all his purposes, and charge 
His mind with meanings that he never had. 
Or, having, kept conceal'd. Some drill and boro 150 
The solid earth, and from the strata there 
Extract a register, by which we learn. 
That he who made it and reveal'd its date 
To Moses, was mistaken in its age, * 
Some, more acute, and more industrious still, 156 
Contrive creation ; travel nature up 
. To ihe sharp peak of her sublimest height. 
And tell us whence the stars ; why some are fix'd, 
And planetary some ; what gave them first 
Rotation, from what fountain flowed their light. ICC 
Great contest follows, and much learned dust 
Involves the combatants ; each claiming truth, 
And truth disclaiming both. And thus they q>eiid 



THE GARDEN. W 

The little wick of life's poor shallow lamp 
lu playing tricks with nature, giving laws 166 

To distant worids, and trifling in their own. 
fa*t not a pity now, that tickling rheunis 
Should ever tease the lungs, and blear the sight 
Of oracles like these ? Great pity, too, 
That having wielded th* elements, and built 170 

A thousand systems, each in his own way, 
They should go out in fume, and be forgot- 
Ah ! what is life thus spent ? and what are they 
But frantick, who thus spend it ? all for smoke^ 
Eternity for bubbles, proves at last 175 

A senseless bargain. When I see sQc]i.gaine8^ 
Pby'd by the creatures of a jk)w> who swears 
That he will judge the Ead:h, and call the feol 
To a sharp reckoning, that lias liv'd in vain ; 
And when I weigh this seeming wisdom weU, Ib0 
And prove it in th* infallible result 
8o hollow and so false — ^I feel my heart 
Dissolve in pity, and account the learned, 
If this be learning, most of all deceiv'd.. 
Great crimes alarm the conscience, but it sleepsy 185 
While thoughtful man is plausibly amosed. 
Defend me, tlierelbre, common sense, say I, 
From reveries so airy, from the toil 
Of dropping buckets into empty wells,, 
And growing oM in drawing nothing np ! 190 

'Twere well, says one, sage, erudite, profound ' 
Terribly arch'd and aquiline his nose, 
And overbuilt with mont impending brows, 
Twere well, could you permit the ^.orld.talbw ^ 
As the world pleases : what's the World to you ? 195* 
Much. I was uom of woman, and drew milk « 
As sweet as charity from human breasts. 
I tliink, articulate — I laugh and weep, 
And exercise all functions of a man. 
How then' should I and any man that liYes 200 

Be strangers to each other ? Pierce my vein, 



68 THE TASK. 

Take of the crimscu stream meand'ring there, 
/Vnd catechise it well : •apply thy glass, 
Search it, and prove now if it be not blood 
Congenial with thine own : and, if it be, 99Q 

What edge of subtlety canst thou suppose 
Keen enough, wise and skilful as thou art, 
To cut the link of brotherhood, by whieh 
One common Maker bound me to the kind ? 
True ; I am no proficient, I confess, 810 

In arts like yours. I cannot call the swift 
And perilous lightnings from the angry clouds. 
And bid them hide th<iraselves u^eaxth beneath ; 
I eannot analyze the air, not catch 
The piurallax of yonder luminous )>oint, 215 

That seems half quench'd in the ipimense abyss • 
Such powers I boast not — neither can I rest 
A silent witness of the headlong rage, 
Or heedless foUy, by which thousands die, 
Bone of my bone, and kindred souls to mine. 220 

God never meant that man should scale ^e Heav*mi 
By stridesjjfjii^an wisdom; "liiTifs works. 
Though wondrous, he commands us in his word 
To seek him rather where his mercy shines. 
The mind, indeed, enlightened from above, 225 

Views him in all ; ascribes to the grand cause 
The grand effect ; acknowledges with joy 
His manner, and with rapture tastes his style. 
But nevBr yet did philosophick tube. 
That brings the planets home into the eye 230 

Of observation, and discovers, else 
Not visible, his family of worlds, 
t>iscover him that rules them ; such a veil 
Flangs over mortal eyes, blind from the birUi, 
And dark in things divine. Full often too, 4^ 

Our wayward intellect, tlie more we learn 
Of nature, overlooks her author more ; 
From instrumental causes proud to draw 
C^onclusions retrograde, and mad mistake 



THF GARDEN. 59 

But if bis word once teach us — shoot a nj 940 

Tlirough all the hearths dark chambers, and revMl 
Troths undiscem'd but by that hcAj light ; 
Then all is plain. Philosophy, baptiz'd 
In the pure fountain of eternal love, 
Has e jes indeed ; and yiewing all she sees 245 

As meant to indicate a Grod t6 man, 
Giyes him his praise, and forfeits not her own. 
Learning has borne such fruit in other days 
On all her branches : piety has found 
Friends in the friends of science, and true pray'r SSft 
Has flowed from lips wet with Castalian dews. 
Stich was thy wisdom, NewtMi, childlike sago ! * 
Sagacious reader of the Works of Crod, 
And in his word sagacious. Such, too, thine, 
Milton, whose genius had angelick wings, 83C 

And fed on manna ! And such thine^ in whom 
Our British Themis gloried with just cause, 
Immortal Hale ! for deep discernment prais'd, 
And sound integrity, not more than fam*d 
For sanctity of manners undefil'd.' 909 

^ All flesh is fprass, and all its glory fades . 
Like Uie fair flow*r dishevell'd in Uie wind ; ) 
Riches have wings, and grandeur is a dreain , 
The man we celebrate must find a tomb, • 
And wo that worship him, ignoble graves. 265 

Nothing is proof against the gen'ral curse 
Of vanity Uiat seizes all below. 
The only amaranthine flow'r on eartlj 
Is virtue ; th* only lasting trejM jire. tn^i^ 
SuTw^Tui'trntli ? 'Twas Pilate's question put 270 
To Truth itself, that deign*d him no reply. 
And wherefore ? will not God impart his light 
To them that adtit ? — Freely — His hb joy, 
His g^ory, and his nature, to impart. 
But to the proud, uncandid, insincere, 278 

Or negligent inquirer, not a spark. 
What's that which brings contempt upon a book. 



=^ 



m THE TASR. , 

And hiin who writes it, though tlie style be iieat» 

The method clotir, and ar^ment exact r 

That makes a minister in holy tnings ' M 

. The joy of many, and the dread of more. 

' His name a theme for praise and for reproack ^ 
That, while it gives as worth in God's account, . 
Depreciates and uadoes «8 in our own ? ^ 
What pearl is it, that rich men cannot buy, S8S 

That learning is too proud to gather np ; 
Bat which Che poor, and the despised of att. 
Seek and obtain, and often fmd unsought ; 
Tell me— and I will UU thee what is truth. 

O friendly te the b^st pursmts of maa, SM 

Friendly to thought, to Tirtue, and to peaoe * 
Domestick life in rural leisters pas8*d ! 
Fen^know thy ralue, and few taste thy sweets ; 
Though many boost thy &T«n^8, and aibet 
To understand and ehooee thee for their own. fK 
But foolish man fbregoes his proper bliss, 
E*en af his first progenitor, arid quhs. 
Though plac'd in Paradise, (for earth has stifi, 
Some traces of her youthful beauty left) 
Substantial happiness for transient joy : 900 

Scenes form'd lor contemplation, and to nurse 
The growing seeds of wisdom ; that suggest. 
By ev'ry pleasing image they present. 
Reflections such as meliorate the heart. 
Compose the passions, and exalt the mind ; 506 

Scenes such as these 'tis his supreme detfght 
To fill with riot, and deile with blood. 
Should seme eonti^ioa, kmd te the pebr bnitM 
We persecute, annihikte the tribes 
That draw the sportsman over hill and dale, 9tO 

Fearless and wrapt away from all his cares ; 
Should never game-fowl hatch her eggs agahi, 
Nor baited hook deceive the fisli's eye ; 
Could pageantry and dance, and feast and song, 
Bo quell'd in all our summer-months* retreats; 315 



THJC GARDKN. ^ 

How Many aelf-doludad nymphs and swatnt, 
Who dream they huve a t&«te for ileWs and ^tv^%9, 
Would find them hideous ntirs'rios of the epleen, 
And crowd t^M roads, hapatieat for the town ! 
j^^jQYfi thfl finnalry, and mm fi1fy>,whft.8eek^ 82C 
For their own sake, its Hler|Sd.faulitafilud&. * 
Delights whicli who would leikve that has a heart 
Susceptible of pHy, or a mind <- 
Caltar*d and cap«hifr of sober thought 
For all the savage dki of the swift pook aK 

And clamours of the field f>-£>etest«d sport; ' 
That owes its pleasUMS to aaothef Is pain ; 
Tliat feeds upon tho sobs and dying shrieks 
Of harmless nature, dumb, but yot endued 
With elocptSBee, that Agonies inspire, 890 

Of silent tMi« imd heart-distending sighs f 
Vain tears, ake, and sighs (hat Mver find 
A eorrei^toading tene 4n jovial sduls ! 
Wall — one at least is safe. One shelter 'd haafe 
Has never heard tba sang mnary yell 835 

Of cruel ma% ebudting in her woes. 
Innocent partner of my peacefol home. 
Whom ten kng years^ experienee of my car© 
Has- madaat lastfiuniUar ! ^e has lost 
Much of her vigilant instinoiive dread, ' 340 

Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine. 
Yes— thou mayst eat thy bread, and lick the hand 
That feeds thee j theu mayst ftolick on the floor 
At ev*ningy and at night retire secure 
To thy straw ooooh, and shxmber iHrtilarm*d , 34? 
For I have gahwd thy 6onfidene»,^httve pledged 
All that is human in me, to preteet 
Thine unsuspecting gratitude and We. 
If I survive thee, I will dig thy grave 5 
And, when 1 place thee in it, sighmg say, 360 

i knew at least one bare that had a fnend.* 



Vol. II. 



* See the note at the 4Mid. 
C, 



eg THE TASK. 

How Fufisiip his QiBplQjpQentSy wbom Um woM 

I Calls idle ', and who justly in return 
Elsteems that busy world an idler too ! 
Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen^ 358 
Delightful industry enjoy'd at home. 
And nature in her cultivated trim 
Dress'd to his taste, inviting him abroad^ 
Can he want occupation who has these ? 
Will he be idle who has much t* eiyoy ? 366 

Me therefore studious of labo riflus ease. 

' Not slothful, happy to deceivVthe time, 
Not waste it, and aware th^ human life 
Is but a loan to be repaid with use. 
When He shall -call his debtors to account, 365 

From whom are all our blessings, bumness find* 
E;en here : while sedulous I seek t* improve^ 
At least neglect not, or leave unemployed, 
The mind he gave me ; driving it, though slack 
Too oft, and much impeded in its work 37tt 

By causes not to be divulg'd in vain, 
To its just point — the service of mai^ind. 
He that attends to his interioitf self, 
That has a heart, and keeps it ; has a mind 
That hungers and supplies it ; and who.Beeks 379 
A social, not a dissipated life, 
I}a0 business ; feels himself engaged t* achieve 
No unimportant, though a silent task. 
A life all turbulence and noise may seem 
To him that leads it wise, and to be prais'd; 380 

But wisdom is a pearl with most success 
Sought in still water, and beneath dear skies 
He that is ever occupied in storms, 
Or dives not for it,^ or brings up instead. 
Vainly industrious, a disgraceful pri^e. . 38S 

The mornJQg finds the self-sequester 'd« man 
Fresh for his task, intend what task he may. 
Whether inclement seasons recommend 
His warm but simple home, where he enjoys 



THE GARDEN. fl3 

With her who shares bis pleasures and his heart, 990 
Sweet ceavezse, sipping calm the fragrant lymph, 
Wliich neatly she prepares : then to his book 
Well chosen, and not sullenly perused 
In selfish silence, but imparted, oil 
As aught occurs that she may smile to hear, 395 

Or turn to nourishment, digested well. 
Or if the garden with its many cares. 
All well repaid, demand him, he attends 
The welcome cdl, conscious how mncli the hand 
Of lubbord Labour needs his watchful eye, 400 

Ofl loit'ring lazily, if not o'erscen, 
Or misapplying his unskilful strength. 
Nor does he govern only, or direct. 
But much performs himself.. No works indeed, 
That ask robust, tough sinews bred to toil, 405 

Servile employ ; but such as may amuse. 
Not tire, demanding rather skill than force. 
Proud of his well-spread walls, he views his trees, 
That meet, no barren interval between. 
With pleasure more than e*en their fruits afford ; 410 
Which, save himself who trains tliem, none can feeL 
These therefore are his own peculiar charge ; 
No meaner hand may discipline the shoots. 
None but his steel approach' them. What is weak. 
Distempered, or has lost prolifick powers, 415 

Impaired by age, his unrelenting hand 
Doom#4n the knifpi..* nor does he spare the soft 
And succulent, that feeds its giant growth, 
But barren, at th* expense of neighb*ring twigs 
Less ostentatious, and. yet studded thick 420 

With hopeful gems. The rest, no portion left 
That may disgrace his art, or disappoint 
Large expectation, he disposes neat 
At measured distances, that ail' and sun, 
Admitted freely may afford their aid, 42Si 

And ventilate and warm the. swelling buds. 
Hence summer has her riches. Autumn hence,. 



61 . THE TASK. 

And licnce e'en Winter fills kis withor'd hand 

With bluBhiag fruits, and plenty not his own.* 

Fair recomptnse of labour well bestow'd, 430 

And wise precaution ; which a cliroe so rude 

Makes needful still, whose Spring is hut ths child 

Of churlish Winter, in her froward mooda 

Discovering much the temper of her aire* 

For oil, as if in hor the stream of miM 43K 

Maternal nature had reveni'd its eouxse, 

Shb brings her infants forth with mwy sodlet ; 

But once doUver'd, kills them with a frown. 

He therefore, timely wam'd, himself supplier 

Her want of care, screening and keeping warm 449 

The plenteous bloom, that hq rough blast may swe^ 

His garland? from the^bouglis. Again, as oft 

As the sun peeps, and vernal airs breathe imld* 

The fence withdrawn, he gives them ev'ry beam^ 

And spreads his hopes before the blaze of day. 44$ 

To raise the ^dpklj and gr^en-coated goard» 
So grateful to the palate, and when rare 
So coveted, else base and disestecm'd- 
Food for the vulgar merely — is ai^ art 
That toiling ages have but just matur'di 450 

And at this moment unessay'd in song. 
Yet gnats have had, and irogs and miee, long sme% 
Their eulogy ; those sang the Mantuan bard. 
And these the Grecian, in ennobling strains; 
And in thy numbers. Philips, shines for aye 459 

Tlie solitary shilling. Pardon, then. 
Ye sage dispensers of poetick fajna, 
Th' ambition of one meaner far j whose pow'ra^ 
Presuming an attempt not less subUme, 
Pant for the praise of dressing to the taste 460 

Of critick appetite, no sordid fare, 
A encumber, while costly yet and scarce* 

The stable yields a stercoraceouB hea^ 

^ MiraUirque novos fiructus et non sua poma. Vvgm 



THE GARDEN. • 

impregnated with qaick fermenting salts, 
And potent to resist the freezing blast : 46S 

For ere the beech and elm have cast their leaf 
Dociduoas, when now Kovember dark 
Checks vegetation in the torpid plant 
Exposed to his cold breath, the task begins. 
Warily, therefore, and with prudent heed, 47Q, 

He seeks a favour'iLspot ; that where he builds 
Th' agglomerated pile his frame may front 
The sun's nieridian disk, and. at the back 
Enjoy close shelter, wall, or reeds, or hedge 
Impervious to. the wind. First he bids spread 475 
Dry fern or littered hay, that may imbibe 
Th* ascending damps; then leisurely impose, 
And lightly shaking it with agile hand 
From the full fork, the saturated straw. 
What longest binds the closest forms secure 480 

The shapely side, that as it rises takes, 
By just degrees, an overhanging breath, ^ 
Sheltering the base with its projected eaves ; 
■ Th* uplifted frame, compact at ev'ry joint. 
And overlaid with clear translucent glass, 485 

He settles next upon the sloping mount. 
Whose sharp declivity shoots off secure 
From the dash*d pane the dduge as it fUls. 
He shuts it close, and the first labour ends. 
Thrice must the voluble and testless Eartii 499 

Spin round upon her axle, ere the warmth, ^ 

Slow gath'ring in the midst, through the square mass 
Diffused, attain the surface ; when, behold ! 
A pestilent and most corrosive stream, 
Like a gross fog Boeotian, rising fast, 496 

And fast condcns'd upon the dewy sash. 
Asks egress ? which obtain*d, the overeharg'd 
And drench'd conservatory breathes abroad, 
In volumes wheeling slow the vapoturdank; 
\nd, purified, rejoices to have lost 600 

Its foul inhabitant. But to assuage 



*^=»S 



0i THE TA»K. 

Th* impatient fervour, which it first conceives 
Within its roekisg bosom, threat'ntng death 
To his young i^^es, recpuros diacreeV dchiy. 
Experience, slow preceptress, Reaching oh 506 

The way to glory by miscarriage foul, 
Bf nst prompt hixa, aad admonish bow to catch 
.Th* auspicious movant, when the tcmper'd heat| 
Friendly to vital motion, may afford 
Soft fomentation, and invite the seed. &H 

The seed, selsotsd wisely, pktmp» and sroootbi 
And glossy, ho commits to pots of size 
Diminutive, well fiU'd with well-preparVi 
And fruitful s^, that has been treasur'd long. 
And drank no moisture fj^om the dripping douda. 515 
These on the wwm and genial earth that hides 
The smoking manure, and o'eispreads it all, 
He places UghUy, and, as time subdues 
The rage of fermentation, plunges deep 
In the soft medium, tilljthey stand immers'd. 590 

Then rise tiie tender germs, upstarting quick 
And spreadip0 wide -thoir spongy lobes ; at fissi 
Fl^Oi wan, apd livid , but assuming soon. 
If fann'd by l^ahny and nutritious air. 
Strained through the friendly mats, a vivid green. 525 
Two leaves- produced, two rough indented loa;vas. 
Cautious he- pinches from the second stalk 
A pimple thai portends a future sprout, 
And interdicts its growth. Thence strught succeed 
The branches, sturdy to his utmost wish ; 530 

Prolifick all, and harbingers of more. 
The 'crowded roots demand enlargement now. 
And transplantation in an ampler space. 
Indulg'd in what they wish, they soon supply 
Large foliage, overshadowing golden fiow'is, 536 

Blown on the summit of the apparent fruit. 
These have their sozes ; and when summer shines 
'J^ bee transports the fertilizing meal 
From flow'r to flow'r, and e'en the breathing air 



THE GARDEN. 67 

Wafls the rich prize to its appointed use. 540 

Not so when winter scowls. Assistant Art 
Then acts in Nature's office, brin^ to pass 
The ^lad espousals, and ensures the crop. 

Grndge not, yB rick, (since Luxury must have 
His dainties, and the World's more nnm'rous half 50t 
Lives by contriving delicates for you,) 
Grudge not the cost. Te little know the cares 
The vigilance, the labour, and the skill, 
That day and night are exercis'd, and hang 
Upon the ticklish balance of suspense, 560 

That ye may garnish your profuse regales 
With summer fruits brought forth by wintry sons. 
Ten thousand dangers lie in wait to thwart 
The process. Heat, and cold, and wind, and steam, 
Moisture and drought, mice, worms, and swarming; 
flies, 555 

Minute as dust, and numberless, ofl work 
Dire disappointment, that admits no cure, • 

And whidh no care can obviate. It were long, 
Too Jong, to tell th' expedients and the shifts, 
Which he that fights a season so severe 500 

Devises while he guards his tender trust ; 
And oft at last in vain. The leam'd and wise 
Sarcastick would exclaim, and judge the song 
Cold as its theme, and like its theme the fruit 
Of too much labour, worthless when produced. . 565 

Who' loves a garden loves a green-}ioiH» too 
Unconscious of a less propitious clime. 
There blooms exotick beauty, warm and snug^ 
While the winds whistle and the snows descend 
The spiry myrtle with unwith'ring leaf 570 

Shines there, and flourishes. The golden boast 
Of Portugal and western India there. 
The ruddier orange, and the paler lime 
Peep through their polish'd foliage at the storm, 
And seem to smile at what they need not fear. 575 
The amomum there with intermingling flow'rs 



6h Tin: TASK. 

And cherries hangs her iwig-s. Geranium boasts 

Her crimson honours ; and the spangled bcau^ 

Ficoides glitters bright the winter long. 

All plants of ev'ry leaf, that can endure 580 

The winter's frown, if screen'd from his shrewd bitOy 

Live there, and prosper. Those Ausonia claims, 

Levantine regions these ; th* Azores send 

Their jessamine, her jessamine remote 

Caffraria : foreigners from many lands, 585 

Thej form one social shade, as if convened 

By magick summons of th' Orphean lyre. 

Yet just arrangement, rarely brought to pass 

But by a master's hand, disposing well 

The gay diversitie^a of leaf and flow'r, 590 

Must lend its aid t* illustrate all their charmS| 

And dress the regular yet various scene. 

Hant behind plant aspiring, in the van 

The dwarfish, in the rear retir'd, but still 

Sublime above the rest, the statelier stand. Q95 

So once were rang'd the sons of ancient UomOi 

A noble show ! while Roscius trod the stage ; 

And so, while Garrick, as renown'd as he, 

The sons of Albion ; fearing each to lose 

Some note of Nature's musick from his lips, , 600 

And covetous of Shakspeare's beauty, seen 

Tn ev'ry flash of his far -beaming eye, 

Nor taste alone and well-contriv'd display 

Suffice to give the marshall'd ranks the grace 

Of their complete effect. Much yet remains 60& 

Unsung, and many cares are yet behind, 

And more laborious ; cares on which depend 

Their vigour, injur'd soon, not soon restor'd. 

The soil must be renew'd, which oflen wash'd 

Loses its treasure of salubrious salts, 010 

And disappoints the roots ; the slender roots 

Close interwoven, where they meet the vase. 

Must smooth be shorn away ; the sapless brancl^ 

Mu^t fly before the knife ; the withcr'd leaf 



.J 



THE GARDEN. (0 

Must be detached, and where it strews the floor B15 
Sw%pt witii a woman's neatness, breeding «lse 
Contagion and disseminating death. 
Discharge but these kind oiEces, (and who 
Would spare, that loves them, offices like thdte f) 
Well they repay the toil. The sight is pleased^ 010 
The scent regal*d^ each odoriTrous leaf, 
E&ch opening blossom, freely breathes abroad 
Its gratitude, and thank9 him with its sweeti. 

So manifold, all pleasing in their kind, 
All' healthful, are th'-eiQfilojlft of rural ]if9. &15 

Reiterated as the wheel of time 
Runs round ; still ending, and beguming itilL 
Nor are these all. To deck the shapely knoU 
That sofUy swell'd and gayly dress'd appears 
A flow*ry island, from the dark green lawn OV 

Emerging, must be deemed a labour due 
To no mean hand, and asks the touch of iaste.. 
Here also grateful mixture of well-match'd 
And sorted hues, (each giving each relief. 
And by contrasted beauty shining more,) 635 

Is needful. Strength may wield the pcoid'rous spadSy 
May turn the clod, and wheel the compost home j 
But elegance, chief grace the garden showsi 
And most attractive, is the fair result 
Of thought, the creature of a polished mind. 640 

Without it all is Gothick as the scene 
To which th' insipid citizen resorts 
Near yonder heath ; where industry miqpenti 
But proud of his uncouth, ill-chosen task, 
Has made a Heav'n on Earth ; with suns and inooni 
Of close-ramm'd stones has charg'd th* encumber*d 
soil, 646 

And fairly laid the zodiack in the dust. 
Re, therefore, who would see his flowers disposed 
Sightly and in just order, ere he gives 
The beds the trusted treasure of their seeds, 6S0 

Forecasts the future ^hole ; that, when the soeae 



70 ME TASK. 

Shall break into its preconceived display, 

Each for flself, and all as with one voice 

Conspiring, may attest his bright design, 

Nor even then dismissing as perform'd, (j6& 

His pleasant work, may he suppose it donc.^ 

Few self-supported fiow'rs endure the wind 

Uninjur'd, but expect the upholding aid 

Of the smooth shaven prop, and, neatly tied, 

Arc wedded thus, like beauty to old age, 660 

For int'rest sake, the living to the dead. 

Some clotlie the soil that feeds them, far difi\i8*d 

And lowly creeping, modest and yet fair, 

Like virtue, thriving most where little seen 

Some more aspiring catch the neighbour shrub 666 

With clasping tendrils, and invest his branch, 

Eke unadorned, with many a gay festoon 

And fragrant chaplet, recompensing well 

Tho strength they borrow with the grace they lend. 

All hate the rank society of weeds, 670 

Noisome, and ever greedy to exhaust 

Th' impoverished earth ; an overbearing race, 

That, like the multitude made faction mad. 

Disturb good order, and degrade true worth. 

O bjest seclusion JVpm a jarr ing wor ld, 
Which he, thus occupied, enjoys! iletreat 
Cannot indeed tb guilty man restore 
Lost innocence, or cancel follies past ; 
But it has peace, and much secures the mind 
From all assaults of evil ; proving still C80 

A faithful barrier, not o'erleapM with ease 
By vicious Custom, raging uncontrolled 
Abroad, and desolating publick life. 
When fierce Temptation, seconded within 
By traitor Appetite, and arm*d with darts 685 

Temper*d in Hell, invades the throbbing breast, 
To combat may be glorious, and success 
Perhaps may crown us ; but to^y is safe. 
Had I the choice of sublunary good. 



675 



THE GARDEN. 71 

What eocul 1 -wish, that I possesa Bot h«re ? G90 

Health, leisure^ means t* imgrpye it^ frieiidship| pcaoOi 

And constant qccu^ion without care. 
Thiis Blesta I draw a ^ pTcture ^of ^thatj^jajj 
tio pejfifl aaJB^eed^'diat dissipated muidi^ 695 

And p roiiigat^^ abas^rs oT^a world 

tTdei 



ould seek the gt^tless joys thatldeioribe^ 
Allur*d by my report : but 9ure no Jess 
That Mlf-«ondemn'd they most neglect the pma, 70Q 
And what they will net taste mjoat yet approTO. 
What we adndre we praise ; and when we pouM 
Advance it into notioe, that, its worth . 
Acknowledged, others may admire it too. 
I tlierefore recommend, though at the risk 705 

Of popular disgust, yet boldly still, 
The cause' of piety and sacred truth, 
4nd virtue, and those scenes which God ordaitt'd 
Should best secure them, and promote them nMst; 
Scenes that I love, and with regret perceive 710 

Forsaken, or through folly not enjoyed, 
fure is the nymph, though lib'ral of her smilesy 
And chaste, though unconfin'd, whom I eztoL 
Not as the prince in Shuslian, when he called, 
Vain-glorious of her charms, his Vashti forth, 715 
To grace the full pavilion. His design 
Was but to boast his own pocmliar goody 
Which all might view with envy, ncme partake. 
My charmer is not mine alone ; my sweets^ 
And she that sweetens all my bitters too, 790 

Nature, enchanting Nature, in whose fonn 
•Ahd lineaments divine I trace a hand 
That errs not, and find raptures still renew'd, 
ts free to all men — universal prize. 
Strange that so fait a creature should yet want 795 
Adrairers, and be de&Mn'd to divide 
With meaner obiccts fe*en the few she finds ! - 



n THE tASK. 

Stripped of her oifnaments, her leaves and fltfvrVty 
She l(me§ ftU her iiifiuetioe. QJifif^theH 
Attract U8, uid negketed NaUire pines 739 

AEandon'd as unwortKy of our love. 
Bat are not wholesome airs, 4boiigfh UBpei>fiun*4 
By roses ; and oleiwr swfis, though sca^pcely felt. 
And groves, if unharmonioms, yet seevre 
From clamour, and whose verysikiiee chums j 738 
To be preferred to smoke, to the eoUpso, 
That metropolitan voteaaoss make, 
Whose Stygian throats hi««the darhoeis all day Joi^r ; 
And to the stir of Commeres, dririag slowi 
And thuBd'rmg loud, with Um too tfaovsand wiiecik? 
They would be, were not madness hi the head^ 741 
• And folly in the heart ; were England no«r. 
What Englaad wlui, plain, hospitable, Jsini), 
And undebauch'd. Bat we havo bid fiunewefi 
To all the virtues of those bettor days, * 7U 

And all their honest pleasoMS. MiaskMUonoa . 
Know thfir own masters ; and labomms hindi^ 
Who had survived the fkther, servVl the son. 
Now, the legitimate and rightful locd . 
Is but a transient guest, nowly arrived, 95§ 

And soon to be sapplantsd. He that saar 
His patrimonial timber cast its leaf, 
Sells the last scantling, and transfers the price 
To some shrewd sharper, ere it buds again. 
Estates aii landsoapee, gaz*d upon a while, 786 

Then advertis'd, and auotiones^ Hi away. 
The country starves, and they that feed th' o'eceiharg'd 
And surfeited lewd town with iier &ii d'jMi, 
By a just judgment strip and starve tliemsslvea. 
The wings that waft our riches out of sight, 7C0. 

Grow on the gamester's elbows, ar^d the alert 
And nimble motion of those rcyst^ess- joints, 
That never tire, soon fans them all iway. 
Improvement, too, the idol of tho a re, 
is ted with many a victim. Lo, he somes ! 966 



THE GARDEN. .78 

Th* omhipototit ma^cian, Brown, appears ! 
Down falls the venerable pile, th* abode 
Of our forefathers — a grave whi8ker*d raee. 
But tasteless. Springs a palace in its stead, 
But in a distant spot ; where moi'e ezpos'd 77$ 

It may enjoy th* advantage of the north, 
And aguish east, till time shall have transform'd 
^hose nabed acres to a shelt*ring grove. 
Ho speaks. The lake in front becomes a lawn ; 
Woods vanish, hills sabside, and valleys rise 775 

And streazBs, as if created for his use, 
Pursue the track of his directing wand, 
Sinuous or straight, now rapid and ncnUr stow, 
Now murm*ring soft, now roaring in cascades — ' 
E'en as he bids ! Th* enraptured owner smites. 780 
Tis finish*d, and yet, finlsh'd as it seems, 
Still wants a grace, the loveliest it could shoWi 
A mine to satisfy th' enormous eost. 
Drained to the last poor item of his wtf&tth. 
He sighs, departs, and leaves th* accomplish'd plan 786 
That ho has touch*d, retouch'd, many a long day 
Laboured, and many a night pursued in dreams. 
Just when it meets his hopes, and proves the Heav*n 
He wanted, for a wealthier to enjoy ! 
And now perhaps the*gIorious hour is come, 790 

When, having no stake left, no pledge t* endear, 
Her int*rests, or that gives her Sacred cause 
A moment's operation on his love, * 

He burns with most intense and flagrant veal . 
To serve his country. Ministerial grace 796 

Deals him out money frofti the publlck chest ; 
Or, if that mine be shut, some private purs6 
Supplies his need with a usurious loan, 
To be refunded duly, when his vote 
Well-manag'd shall have earn*d its worthy price. 800 
O innocent, compared with arts like these. 
Crape, and cock'd pistol, and the whistling ball 
Sent through the trav'Uer'a temples ' He that findi 
Vol. IL 7 



U THE TASK. 

One drop of Hoav'n's sweet mercy in his cup. 

Can dig, beg, rot, and perish, well content, 805 

So he may wrap himself in honest rags 

At his last gasp ; but could not for a world 

Fish up his dirty and dependent bread 

From pools and ditches of the commonwealth, 

Sordid and sick'ning at his own success. blO 

Ambition, avarice, penury, incurr'd 
By endless riot, vanity, the lust 
Of pleasure and variety, despatch 
As duly as the swallows disappear, 
Tho world of wand'ring knights and squires to town 
Loudon ingulfs them all ! The shark is there, 816 
And the shark's prey ; the spendthrift, and the leech 
THat sucks him * there the sycophant, and ho 
Who, with bareheaded and obsequious bows, 
Begs a warm office, doomed to a cold jail - 820 

And groat per diem, if his patron frown. 
The levee swarms, as if in golden pdmp 
Were cjiaracter'd on ev'ry statesman's door, 
" Battered and bankrupt fortunes mended Iiere.* 
These are the charms that sully and eclipse * 825 

The charms of nature. *Tis the cruel gripe, 
That lean, hard-handed Poverty inflicts, 
The hope of better things, the (;hance to win. 
The wish to shine, tho thirst to be amus'd, 
That at the sound of Winter's hoary wing 830 

Unpeople all our countries of such herds 
Of flutt'ring^ loit'ring, cringing, begging, loo8e» 
And wanton vagrants, as make London, vast 
And boundless as it is, a crowded coop. 

O thou resort and mart of all the earth, 835 

Checker'd with all complexions of. mankind. 
And spotted with till crimes ; ia-W,hom I sgg 
Jkjuch^ thatllove^ and more t hat ^ a^diyifr e^. 
And all that! ajhor ; thou freckled fair, 
niat'pleasest. and yet shock'st me ! I can laagli, 840 
Ami I can weep, can hope and can de3pond 



THE GARDEN. 11 

feel wrath and pity, when I think on thee ? 
Ten righteous would have sav'd a city once, 
And thou hast many righteous. — ^Well for thee— 
That salt preserves thee ; more corrupted else, 845 
And therefore more obnoxious, at this hour. 
Than Sodom in her day had pow*r to be^ 
**or whom <3od he«rd his Abr*limm plead ia \ 



THE TASK. 



THE WINTER EVENING 



ARGUMENT OF THE FOURTH BOOK. 

Iho pott comet in — TM newspaper is read — The World eonteoH 
plated at a distance — Address to Winter — The rural aniasementJ 
of a winter evening compared with the fashionable ones—Ad- 
dress to evening:— A brown study— Fall of snow in the evening— 
The wagoner — A poor family piece — The rural thief— Rublick 
houso»-?rhe multitude of them censured— The farmer^s daugh- 
ter : what she was,- what she is— The simplicity of country 
manners almost lost — Causer of the change— Desertion of th« 
country by the rich— Neglect of the magistrates— The militia prin- • 
cipally in fault — The now recruit and his transformatioo-^Re- 
flection on bodies corporate — ^The love of rural objects natural to 
all, and never to be totail/ extinguished. 



HARK ! 'lis tlie twanging horn o*er yondej^ bridge. 

That with its wcajisomo but needful length 

Bestrides the wintry flood ; in which the moon 

Sees her unwrinkled face reflected bright :-^ 

He comes, tlie herald of a noisy world, t 

With spattcr'd boots, strapped waist, and frozen locksi 

News from all nations lumb'ring at his back. 

True to his charge, the close-pack 'd load behind, 

Vet careless what he brings, his one concern 

Is to conduct it to the destin'd inn ; Id 

And having dropp'd th' expected bag, pass on. 

He whistles as he goes, liglit-hearted wretch- 



THE, WINTER EVENING. 77 

Cold and yet cheerful : messenger of grief 
Perhaps to thousands, and of joy to some ; 
To him mdiff*rent whether grief or joy. 15 

Houses in ashes, and the fall of stocks, 
Births, deaths, and marriages, epistles wet 
With tears, that trickled down tiie writer's cmeks 
Fast as the periods firom his fluent quill. 
Or charg'd with am'rous sighs of absent swains, 80 
Or nymphs responsiTO, eipially .affect 
Hia hdrse and him, unconscious of them nSL 
But O, th* important bodget I ushered in 
With snch heart-shaking nrasick, who can say 
What are its tidings ? have our trooptf awakM ? 2& 
Or do they still, as if with opium drugged. 
Snore to the murmurs of th' AtlanUck wave 
Is India free ? and does she wear her plum'd 
And jewePd turban with a smile of peace, 
Or do we grind her still ? The grand debate, 80 

The populaf harangue, the tart reply. 
The logick, and the wisdom, and the wit, 
And the loud laugh — ^I long to know them all ; 
I bum to set th' impcison'd wranglers free. 
And give them voice and utt'rance once again. 36 

Eow stir the fire, and close the shutters ftst, 
fall the curtains, wheel the sofa rounds 
And, while the bubbling and loud-hissing ura 
Throws np a steamy column, and the cups. 
That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each, 
So let us welcome peaceful ev'ning in. 
Not such his ev*iung, who with shining fiice 
Sweats in the crowded theatre, and, squeez'd 
And bor'd with elbow points through both his sides, 
Outscolds the ranting actoc on the stage : 41 

Nor his, who patient stands till his feet throb, 
And his head thumps, to feed upon the breath 
Of patriots, bursting with heroick' rkgo, 
Or placemen, all tranquillity and smile» 
This foUo of four pages happy work ! 
7* 






1 



78 THfelTASK , 

Which not e'en chtieks criticise ; that ii»ldft 
Inquisitive attention, ^vhile I lead, 
Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fiiir, 
Though eloquent tliemselves» yet ieav to bf«ak ; 
What is it, but a map of busy life,, 5§ 

Its fluctuations^ and its 'vast concerns P 
Hero runs the roountainovs and craggy ridge. 
That tempts Ambition. On the sumnul sea - 
The seals of office glitter in his ioyes ; 
He climbs, he pants, he grasps them i At hbhaals 60^ 
Close at his hesls, a demagogQAAaeeDde, 
And with a dext'rotts jerk soon twists lun dotmi^ 
And wins them, but to loaa them in itia two. 
Here rills of oily eloquence, in soft 
Meanders Uibticate the course th^ UkB^ 6& 

The modest speaker is.aUian'd and griev^ 
T' engross a moment's notice ; and yet begs, 
Begs a propitious ear for his poor thenghts^ 
However trivial, all that he concoires. 
Sweet bashfulness ; it clairas at least this psake : 79 
The dearth of information and good aeose 
That it foretejls us always comes to pass^ 
Cataracts of declamation tlmnder hfi^re $ 
There forests of no meaning spread Ihe pagey • 

In which all comprehenoon waaders^ loot y 9fr • 

W141e fields of pleasantry amuse us there 
Wifli merry descants on a nation'e woes^ 
The rest appears & wilderness of straAge- 
Bnt gay confusion ; roses for tha cheeks^ 
And lilies for the brows of faded age, 80' 

Teeth for t^e toothless,, ringlets for the bald> 
Heav'n, earth, and ocean, plundered of their sweets^ 
Nectareous essences, Olympian dews, 
Sermons, and city feastsy and &v*rite airs, 
Ethereal journeys, submarine exploits, fS' 

And Katterfelto, wlUi his hair on end 
At his own wonders, wond'ring for his bread. 
Tis pleasant, through the loopholes oi retreat, 



J 



THE. WINTER EVENING. 


79 


^^ To peep al such a world ; to see the stir 




\ or the great Babel, and not feel the crowd ; 


M 


To hear the roar she sends through all her gate* 




At a safe distance, where the dying soond 




Falls a soft murmur on th' uninjor'd ear. 




Thus sitting, and surveying thus at ease 




The globe and its concerns, I seem advano'd 


il& 


To some secure and more than mortal height. 




That liberates and exerapU me from them aU. 




It. turns submitted to mj view, turns roimd 




With all its generations ; I behold 




The tumult, and am stilL The sound of war 


100 


Has lost its terrours ere it reaches me"; -^ 




Grieyes, but alarms me not. I mourn the pride 




And av'jice that make man a w<^ to man ', 




Hear the faint echo of those brazen throats, 




By which he speaks the language of his heailf 


ii» 


And sigh, but never tremble at the sound* 




He travels and expatiates, as the bee 




From flow'r te flow'r, so he from land to land } 








Pay Gontributt(»& to the store he gleans;. 


UO 


He sucks intelligence in ev*ry cUmey 




And spreads the honey of his deep research 




At his return— 4 rich repast for me* 




He tcavels, and I too. I tread his deck. 




'** Ascend his topmast through his. peering eye* 


1th 


Discover counti^ififf, with a kindred heart 




Sufier his woes, and share in his escapes ; 




While fancy, like the finger of a clock, 




Runs the great circuit, and is still at iKHoae , 




Winter, ruler of th' inverted year, 


lao 


1 Thy scattered h&ir with sleet like ashes fill'd. 




' Thy breath congeal'd upon thy lips, thy cheeks 




Fring'd with a Ijeard made white with other soows 


Thau those of age, thy forehead wrapp'd in cknids. 


A leafless branch thy scepire, and thy thrrnie 


id& 


A sliding, car, indebted to no wheels^ 

Itaic:^^, - -^ — 





90 THK TASK. 

But urg'd by storms along its slipp'ry way, 

I love thee, all unlovely as thou seem'st, 

And dreaded aa thou art ! Thou hold'st the Bun 

A prisoner in the yet nndawning east, 130 

Short'ning his journey between morn and noony 

And hurrying him, impatient of his stay, 

Down to the rosy west : but kindly still 

Compensating his loss with added hours 

Of social converse and instructive ease, 138 

And gathering, at short notice, in cme group - 

The family dispersed, and fixing thought, 

Not less dispers'd by daylight and its cares. 

I crown thee king of intimate delights. 

Fireside enjoyments, homeborn h^piness, 140 

And all the comforts that the lowly roof. 

Of undisturbed Retirement, and the hours 

Of long, uninterrupted ev'ning know. 

No rattling wheels stop short before these gates » 

No powder'd port proficient in the art 145 

Of sounding an alarm, assaults those doors 

Till the street rings ; no stationary steeds 

Cough their own knell, while, heedless of the sound, 

The silent circle fan themselves, and quake ; 

But here the needle plies its busy task, 150 

The pattern grows, the well-depicted flow'r, 

Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn, 

Unfolds its bosom ; buds, and leaves, and ^rigs, 

And curling tendrils, gratefully disposed, 

Follow the nimble finger of the fidr ; IS6 

A wreath, that cannot fade, or flow'rs that blow 

With most success when all besides decay. 

The poet's or historian's page by one 

Made vocal for th' amusement of the rest : 159 

The sprightly lyre, whose treasure of sweet sounds 

The touch from many a trembling chord shakes out : 

And the dear voice symphonious, yet distinety 

And in the charming strife triumphant still. 

Beguile the night, and set a keener edge 



THE WINTER EVENING. 81 

On femalo industry * tlie threaded steel 165 

Flies swiftly, and unfelt the tusk proceeds. 
The volume elos'd, the eustomary rites 
Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal: 
Such as the mistress of the world once found 
Deliciotks, when her patriots of high note, 170 

Perhaps by moonlight, at their humble doon, 
And under an old oak's domestick shade, 
£njoy*d, spare feast ! a radish and an egg» 
Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull, 
Nor such as with a. frown forbids the play 17ft 

Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth : 
Nor do we madly, like an impious World, 
Who deem religion frenzy, and the God 
That made them an intruder on their joys, ' 
Start at his awful name, or deem. his praise 180 

A jar'i'ing note. Thenjes of a graver tone* 
Exciting oft our gratitude and love, ' 

While we retrace with Mem'ry's pointing wtnd^ 
That calls the past to our exact review. 
The dangers we have *scaped, the broken snare, 185 
The disappointed foe, deliverance found 
Unlook'd'for, life preserr'd, and peace restored— 
Fruits of omnipotent eternal love. 
O evenings worthy of the gods! exclaim*d • 
The Sabine bard. O evenings, I reply, 190 

More to be priz'd and coveted than yours. 
As more illumined, And with nobler truths. 
That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy. 

Is Winter hideous in a garb like this ? 
Needs he the tragick fur, the smoke of lamps, 106 
The pent-up breatli of on unsav'ry throng, 
To thaw him- into feeling, or the smart 
' And snappisli dialogue, that flippant wits 
Call comedy, to prompt him with a smile f 
The self-complacent actor, when ho views 800 

(Stealing a sidelong glance at a full house) 
The slope of faces, from the floor to th' roof 



82 THE TASK. 

(Ab if one master spring controird them aB,) 

Relax'd into a universal grin, 

Sees not a counfnonce there, that speaks of joy 908 

Ha]f so refined or so sincere as ours. 

Cards were superfluous here, with all the tricks 

That idleness has ever jet contrived 

To fill the void of an unfiimish'd brain, 

To palliate dulness, and give time a shove. 810 

Time, as he passes us, has a dovo*s wing, 

Uhsoil*d, and swifl, and of a silken sound ; 

But the world's Time is Time in masquerade ! 

Theirs, should I paint him, has his pinions fledged. 

With motley plumes ; and where the peacock shows 

His azure eyes, is tinctur'd black and red 216 

With spots quadrangular of diamond form, 

Ensanguin'd hearts, clubs typical of strife, 

And spades, the emblem of untimely graves. 

What should be, and what was an hourglass once, 220 

Becomes a dicebox, and a billiard mace 

WeU does the work of his destructive sithe. 

Thus dock'd, he charms a World whom Fashion blinds 

To his true worth, most plcasM when idle most: 

Whose only happy, are their idle hours. 225* 

£*en misses, at whose age their mothers wore 

The backstring and the bib, assume the dress 

Of womanhood, sit pupils in the school 

Of card devoted Time, and, night by night, 

Placed at some vacant corner of the board, 830 

Learn ev*ry trick, tmd soon play dl the game. 

But truce with censure. Roving as I rove, 

Where shall I find an end, or how proceed ? 

As he that travels far ofl turns aside. 

To view some rugged rock or nfouldVing tow*r, 5S35 

Which seen, delights him not ; then coming home 

Describes and prints it, that the world may know 

How far he went for what was nothing worth : 

So I, with brush in hand and pallet spread. 

With colours mix*d for a far diflTrent use, 840 



THE WINTER EVENING. 83 

Paint cards, and dolls, and ov'ry idlo thingr, 

. Fancy finds in her excursive flights. 

ome> Ev'ningy once again, season of peaM, 
^Return, sweet Evening, and continue long ! 
Methinks I see thee in the streajcy west, 
With matron step slow-moving, while the Night 
Treads on thy sweeping train ; one hand employ'd 
In letting fall the curtain of repose 
On bird and beast, the other charg'd for man 
With Bweet oblivion of the cares of day : 
Not eamptuonslj adom'd, nor needing aid. 
Like bomely-featur'd Night, of clustering gems , 
A star or two, just twinkling on thy brow, 
Boffices thee ', save that the moon is tliine 
No less than hers, not w<Mm indeed on high 
With ostentatious pageantry, but set 
With modest grandeur in thy purple zone, 

endent leSB| pii\ of g n ftmplflr pimd. 

Come then, and thou shalt find thy votary calm, 

Or make me so. Composure is thy gift ; 860 

And, whether I devote thy gentle hoars 

To books, to musick, or the poet's toil ; * 

To weaving nets for bird-alluring fruit ; 

Or twining silken threads round ivory reels. 

When they command whom man was born Xo please ; 

I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still. 26C 

Just when our drawing-rooms begin to blaze 
With lights, by clear reflection multiplied 
From many a mirror^ in which he of Gath, 
Goliath, might have seen his giant bulk 270 

Whole without stooping, tow'ring erest and all, 
My pleasures, too, begin. But me perhaps 
The glowing hearth may satisfy awhile 
With faint Ulumination, that uplifts 
The shadows to the ceiling, there by fits 27S 

Oancing uncouthly to the quiv'ring fiumo, 
Not undellghtful is an hour to me 
Bo spout in parlour twilight : such a gloom - 



le 

L ^ 



84 THE TASK. 

Bolts well the thoughtful or unthinking mind. 

The mind contemplative, with some new tbem« ^280 

Pregnantt or iikUi^'d alike to all. 

Laugh ye, who boast your more mercurial pew*n| ^ 

That never feel a stupor, know no pause, 

Nor need one ; I am conscious, and confess 

Fearless, a soul that does not always think. 98B y^ 

Me oil has Fancy, ludicrous'and wild, ^l 

Sooth'd with a waking dream of houses, tow*r% ^ 

Trees, churches, and strange visages, ezpreas'd 

In the red cinders, while with poring eye 

I gaz'd, myself creating what I saw. 9Q0 

Nor less amus'd have I quiescent wotch'd 

The sooty films that play upon the bars 

Pendulous, and foreboding in the view 

Of superstition, prophesying still. 

Though still deceived, some stranger's neor flppcoach. 

'TIS thus the understanding takes repose 296 ^ 

In inddent vacuity of thought, 

And sleeps, and is refresh'd. Meanwhile the fa^ 

Conceals the mood lethargick with a mask 

OC deep deliberation, as the man 300 

Were task'd to his full strength, absorb'd and lest 

Thus ofl, reclined at ease, I lose an hour 

At ev*ning, till at length the freezing blast 

That sweeps the bolted shutter, summons homo 

The recollectnd oow'rs ; and sni^piiig short 305 

Tlio gkssy t breads, with which the Fancy weave* 

Her brittle toils, restores me to myself. 

How calm is my recess ; said how the frost, 

Raging abroad, and the rough wii\d, endear 

The silence and the warmth enjoy*d within ! 310 

1 saw the woods and fields at close of dayi 

A variegated show ; the meadows fcreen, 

Though faded ; and the lands, where lately wav*4 

The golden harvest, of a mellow brown, 

Upturned so lately by the forceful share, 315 

I saw far eff the weedy fallows smilo 



. THE WINTER EVENING. » 

With yerdure not unprofitable, grazed 
By flocks, fast feeding, and selecting each 
His favorite herb : while all the leafless gtonet 
l*hat skirt th' horizon wore a sable hoe, 99^ 

Scarce noticed in the kindred duak of evew 
TooDiorrow brings a change, a total change I 
Which eyen now, though silently pericffinVly 
And slowly, and by most nnfelt, the face 
Of universal nature undergoes. 9MI 

Fagt &Hs a fleecjL JtboK'r : tiie downy flakes 
0ewending, and with neTer-ceasmg lapse^ 
Soflly alighting upon all below> 
Assimilate all objects. Earth recervei 
Gladly the thick*ning nuuitle ; and the green 890> 
And tender blade, that fear'd tiie chilling Uastt 
Escapes unhurt beneath so warm a veil. 

In soofa a world, so thorny, and whtore noae 
Finds happiness unblighted, or, if found, 
Without some thistly sorrow at its side; 335 

It seems the part of wisdom, and no sin ^ 
Against the law of love, to measure lots 
With less distinguished than ourselves ; that thui ^ 
We may with patience bear our moderate ills, 
And sympathize with others sufTring more. 840 

III fares the trav*ll6r now, and he that stalks 
In pond'rous boots beside bis reeking team 
The wain goes heavily, impeded sore 
By congregated loads adhering close 
To the clogg'd wheels ; and in its riuggi^ pace 345 
Noiseless appears a moving hill of snow. 
The toiling steeds expand the nostril wide. 
While ev*ry breath, by respiration strong 
Forc*d downward, is consolidated soon 
Upon their jutting chests. He, lbrm*d to bfar 850 
The pelting brunt of the tempestuous mght, 
With half shut eyes, and puckered cheeks, and tettK ' 
Presented bare against the storm, plods on. 
One hand secures his hat, save when with b^th 

Vol. n. 8 



86 THE TASK, 

lie orandishes his pliant length of whip, 868 

Resounding oft, and never heard in Tain. 
O happy ; and in my account denied 
That sensibility of pain with which 
Refinement is endu'd, thrice happy thou ! 
Thy frame, robust and hardy, feels indeed 360 

The piercing cold, but feels it unimpaired. 
The leam'd finger never need explore 
Thy vig'rous pidse ; and the unheathful euBt, 
That breathes the spleen, and searches ev'ry bono 
, Of the infirm, is whoiesomo air to thee. 865 

Thy days roll on exempt from household care ; 
Thy wagonjs thjr_3d£3i ; and the poor beasts, 
That drag the dull companion to and fro. 
Thine helpless charge, dependent on thy care. 
Ah, treat them kindly ; rude as thou appear'st, 370 
Tet show that thou hast mercy ! which the gceat, 
With needless hurry whirled firom place to pkce^ 
Humane as they would seem, not alwajrs show. 

Poor, yet industrious, modest, quiet, neat, ' 
Such claim compassion in a night like this, 376 

And have a friend in ev'ry feeling heart. 
Warm*d, while it lasts, by labour, aU day long 
They brave the season, and yet find at eve^ 
111 clad, and fed but sparely, time to CfioL 
The frugal housewife trembles when she lights 380 
Her scanty stock of brushwood blazing clear, 
But dying soon, like all terrestrial joys. 
The few small embers left she nurses well \ 
And, while her in&nt race, with outq»read hands 
And crowded knees, sit cowering o*er the sparks, 385 
Retires, content to quake, so they be warm'd. 
The man feels least, as more inur'd thiui aha . 
To winter, and the current in his veins 
More briskly mov'd by his severer toil; 
Yet he too finds his own distress in theirs. 890 

The taper soon extinguished, which 1 saw 
Dangled along at the cold finger'a end 



THE WINTER EVENING. 87 

Just when the day decHn'd : and the brown loaf 
Lodg'd on the shelf half eaten without sauce 
Of say'ry cheese, or butter, costlier still ; 39S 

Sleep seems their only refuge : for,' alas ! 
Where penury is felt the thou^t is cfaain'd, 
And sweet colloquial pleasures are but few ! 
With all this thrift tbey thrive not. All tlio care, 
Ingenious Parsimony takes, but just 400 

Saves the small inventory, bed> and stool. 
Skillet, and old carv'd chest, from publick sale. 
They live, and live without extorted alms 
From grudging hands : but other boast have none, 
To sooth their honest pride, that scorns to beg, 405 
Nor comfort else, but in their mutual love . 
I praise you much, ye meek and patient pair, 
For yo are worthy ; choosing rather far 
A dry but independent crust, hard eam'd, 
And efttea vn&i a sigh, than to endure 410 

The rugged frowns and insolent rebuff 
Of knaves in office, partial in the work 
Of distribution ; libVal of their aid 
To clam'rous Importumt;y in rags. 
But ofttimes deaf to suppliants, who would blush 415 
To wear a tatter'd garb, however coarse, 
Whom famine cannot reconcile to filth : 
These ask with painfbl shyness, and, refbs'd 
Because deserving, silently retire ! 
But be ye of good courage ! Time itself 420 

Shall much befriend you. Time shall give increase ; 
And all your numerous progeny, well train'd, 
But helpless, in few years shall find their hands, 
And labour too. Meanwhile ye shall not want 
What, conscious of your virtues, we can spare, 4S5 
Nor what a wealthier than ourselves may send. 
I mean the man, who, when the distant poor 
Need help, denies them nothing but his name. 
But poverty with most, who whimper forth 
Their long complaints, is self-inflicted wo ; . 430' 



68 THE TASK. 

The effect of laziness or sottish waste. 
Now goes tlic nightly tjiiefprowling alroad 
For plunder ; much soUcifotis how best 
Ho may compensafte for a day of doth 
By works of darkness and nocturnal wrong. 43S 

Wo to the gardener's pale, the ^mer's hedge, 
Plash'd neatly, and secor'd with driyen stakes 
Deep in the loamy batik. Uptom by strengtliy 
Resistless in 8o bad a cause, but lame 
To better deeds, he bundles up the spoili . 4lt 

An ass's burden, and, when laden most 
And heaviest, light of foot, steals fast away 
Nor does thb bordered hovel better guard 
The ^ell-stack'd pile of riven logs and roots 
From his pernicious force. Nor will he leave 44& 
Unwrench'd the door, however well secur'd^ * 
Where Chanticleer amidst his haram sleeps 
In unsuspecting pomp. Twitoh'd from the porcli, 
He gives the princely bird, with all his wives, 
To his voracious bag, struggling in vain, 450 

And loudly wondering at the sudden change. 
Nor this to feed his own. Twere some exevsi 
Did pity of their sufferings warp aside 
His principle, and tempt him into sin 
For tlieir support, so destitute. But they 46S 

Neglected, pine at home ; themselves, as' more 
Expos'd than others, with less scruple made 
His victims, robb*d of their defenceless all. 
Cruel is all he does. Tis quenchless thixft 
Of ruinous ebriety, that prompts 460 

(lis ev'ry action, and imbrutes the Qian. 
O for a law to noose the villain's neck 
Who starves his own ; who persecutes the blood 
He gave thom in his children's veins, and liates 
And wrongs the woman he has sworn to love ! 465 
Pass where wo may, through city or tlirsugk toWBy 
Village or hamlet, of this merry land, 
Though lean and beggared, every twentieth paee 



THE WINTER EVENING. 9^ 

Conducts th' unguarded nose to such a whiff 
Of stale debauch, forth-issuing from the sties 479 
That law has licensed, as makes Temp'rance reel. 
There sit, involved and lost in curling clouds 
Of Indian fume, and guzzling deep, the boor, 
The lackey, and the groom ; the craflstnan there 
Takes a Lethean leave of all his toil ; 47S 

Smith, cobbler, joiner, he that plies the shears, 
And he that kneads the dough ; all loud alike, 
All learned and all drunk ! the fiddle screams 
PlaintiTe and piteous, as it wept and wail'd 
Its wasted tones and harmony unheard, 480 

Fierce the dispute, whato*er the theme ; while she, 
Fell Discord, arbitress of such debate, 
Perch'd on the signpost, holds with even hand 
Her undacituve scales. In this she lays 
A weight of ignorance ; in that, of pride } 485 

And smiles delighted with the eternal poise. 
Dire is the frequent curse, and its twin sound, 
The cheek distending oath, not to be pnus'd 
As ornamental, musical, polite. 

Like those which modem senators employ, 490 

Whose oath is rhet'rick, and who swear for fame ! 
Behold the schools, in which plebeian minds, 
Once simple, are initiated in ar^ 
Which some may practise with politer grace, 
But none with readier skill ! — 'Tis here they loera 
The road that leads firom coimifiteace and peace 496 
To indigence and rapine ; till at last ^ 

Society, grown weary of the load. 
Shakes her encumber'd lap, and casts them out 
But censure profits little ; vain th* attempt 500 

To advertise in verse a publick pest, 
That, like the filth with which the peasant feeds 
His himgry acres, stinks, and is of use. 
Th* excise is fatten'd with the rich result 
Of all this riot ; and ten thousand casks, 606 

For ever dribbling out their baso contents, 
8» 



-7^ 



(v^ 



=*lti 



90 . THE TASK. 

Touched bj the Midas finger of the state. 

Bleed gold for mmisters to sport away. 

Drink, and be mad then ; .*tis your country bide ! 

Gloriously drunk, obey th* unportant calll 616 

Her cause demands th* assistance of your throtlv } 

Te all can swallow, and she asks no moM. 

Would I had fall'n upon those h^ ffier^ dayi 
That poets celebrate ; those golden times. 
And those Arcadian scenes that Maro sings, 51A 

And Sidney, warbler of poetick prose.* 
Nymphs were Dianas then, and swains had heaxkf 
That felt their virtues : Innocence, it seems, 
From courts dismissed, found shelter in the graves , 
The footsteps of simplicity, impressed 1320 

Upon the yielding herbage, (so the^, <ung*) 
Then were not aU efiac'd ; then speech profane^ 
And manners profligate, were rarely found, 
Observ'd^as prodigies, and soon reclaim*d. 
Vain wish ! those days were never ; airy droAms 535 
Sat for the picture : and the poet's hand, 
Imparting substance to an empty sh^de. 
Imposed a. gay delirium for a truth. 
Grant it : I still must envy them an age 
That favoured such a dream : in daya like thote 590 
Impossible when Virtue is so scarce. 
That to i^p|»ose a scene ^here she presides 
Is tramontane, and stumbles all belief 
No : we are polish'd now. The rural lass, 
Whom once her virgin modesty and grace, 535 

Her artless manners, and her neat attire. 
So dignified, that she was hardly less 
Than the fair shepherdess of old romance, 
^s seen no more. The character is lost 1 
Her head, adorn'd with lappets pinn'd alofl, 549 

And ribands streaming gay, superbly raised. 
And magnified beyond all human size, 
Indebted to some smart wig-weaver's hand 
Tor more than lialf the tresses it sustains : 



J 



THE WINTER EVENING. 91 

Her elbows ruiHed, and her tott'ring form 915 

in propped npoQ French heels ; she might be 6amm*d 
(Bat that the luisket dangting^ on her arm 
Interprets her more truly) of a rank 
Too prond for dairy work, or sale of egg» — 
Expect her soon with footboy at her heels, S50 

No longer blushing fbr her awkward Itad, 
Her train and her umbrella aU her care ! 

^ \ The town has ting*d the country ; and the staiii 
Appears a spot upon a vestal Vi robe, 
The worse for what it soils. The fkshlon runs 665 
Down into scenes stili rund ; but, alas, 
Scenes rarely grac'd with rural manners now ! 
Time was when in the pastoral retreat 
Th' unguarded door was safe ; men did not wmtch 
T' mvade another's right, or guard their own. 660 
Then sleep was undisturb*d by fear, unscar'd 
By drunken howHngs ; and the chilling tale 
Of midnight murder was a wonder heard 
With doubtful credit, toM to fHghten babes.^ 
But farewell now tc unsuspicious nights, 665 

And slumbers unalarm*d ! Now, ere you deept * 

• See that your polished arms be prim*d with care, 
And drop the night-bolt ; — ruffians are abroad ; 
And the first larum of the cock's i^rill threat 
May prove a trumpet, summoning your ear 576 

To horrid sounds of hostile feet within. « 

£*^ daylight hak its dangers ; and the walk 
Through patliless wastes emd woods, unconscious <MiOft 
Of other tenants than melodious birds. 
Or' harmless flocks, is hazardous and bold. 675 

Lamented change ! to which full many a cause . 
Invet'rate, hopeless of a cure, consph^s. 
The course of human things from good to 81, 
From ill to worse, is fatal, never fails. 
Incrense of pow'r begets increase of wealth ; 660 
Wealth luxury, and luxury excess : 
Excess, the scrofblous and itchy plague, 



92 THE TASK. 

Thai BcizeB first the. opulent, descends 

To the next rank contagious, and in time 

Taints downward all tlie graduated scale 68ft 

Of order, firom the chariot to the plough. 

The rich, and they that have an arm to chcick 

The license of the lowest in degree, 

Desert their office ; and themselves, intent 

On pleasure, haunt the capital, and thus 59Q 

To all the violence of lawless hands 

Resign the scenes their presence miglit protect. 

Authority herself not seldom sleeps, 

Though resident, and witness of the wrong. 

The plump convivial parson often bears (395 

The magisterial sword in vain, and lays 

His rev'rence and his worship bot^ to rest 

On the same cushion of habitual sloth. 

Perhaps timidity restrains his arm ; 

When he should strike he trembles, and sets freOt 600 

Himself enslav'd by teitour of the band — 

Th' audacjous convict whom he dares not bind. 

Perhaps though by profession ghostly pure, ' 

He, too, may have his vice, and sometimes prove 

Less dainty than beqomes his grave outside 00^ 

In lucrative concerns. Examine well 

His milk-white hand ; the palm is harldly cleait— 

But here and there an ugly smutch appears. 

Foh *^ 'twas a bribe that left it : he has toach'd 

Corruption. Whoso seeks an audit Jiere 610 

Propitious, pays his tribute^ gaqne or fish, 

Wild fowl or venison : and his errand speeds. 

fiut faster far, and more than all the rest, 
A noble cause, which none, who bears a spark 
Of publick virtue, ever wished removed, 616 

Works the deplor'd and mischievous efiect. 
Tis universal soldiership has stabb'd 
The heart of merit in the meaner class. - . 

Arms, through the vanity and brainless ra^o 
Of those that bear them, in whatever cause, 620 



1 



THE WINTER EVENING. 98 

Seem most at variance with all moral good, 
And incompatible with serious thought. 
The clown, the child of nature, WithotK guile, 
Blest with an infant's ignorance of all 
But his own simple pleasures ; now and then 6^ 

A wrestling match, a fodt-race, or a fair ; 
Is balloted, and trehAtkeB at the news : 
Sheepish he doffii his hat, and mumbling swean 
A bible oalh to b^ n^iate^ they i^oase, 
To do he knows not what. The task perferm*d 630 
That instant he be c o me s the sergeant's txu«. 
His pupil, and his torment, and his jest. 
His awkward gak, his introverted toes. 
Bent knees, round i^oulders, and dejelbted leoksj 
Procure him many a trurse. By slmv degrees, 035 
Unapt to learn, and form VI ef stubborn stutT, ' 
H« yet by slow degrees puts off himself, 
Grows conscious of a change, and likes It wefit 
He stands erect : his slouch bexknnes a walk ; 
He steps right onward, ihartiai in his Mr, 640 

His form and morement ; is as smart above 
As meal and larded locks can make him ; wears 
His hat, or his pimn'd helmet, with ic gratw ; 
And, his three years of lieroshtp expired, 
Retume indignant to the flighted plough. 645 

He hates the field, in which no fite or drum 
Attends him ; drives his cattle to a march ; 
And sighs for the smart comrades he has left. 
Twere well if his exterionr chanf^e were ail- 
But with his chimsy port ^le wreteh has lost 650 
His ignorance and narmless manners too. 
To swear, to game, to drink ; to show at home . 
By lewdness, idleness, and sabbath breach, 
The great proficiency he made abroad ; ' 
T* astonish, and to grieve his gazing friends ; 655 
To break some maiden's and his mother's heart t 
To be a pest where he was useful once ; 
Are his solo aim, and all his glory, now 



94 THE TASK. 

Man in sociely is IiIlo a flow'r 
Blown in its native bed ; 'tis there al<Nio 09 

His faculties, expanded in full bloom, 

^ Shine out ; there only reach their proper ute* 
But man, associated and leagued with man 
By regal warrant or s^-join'd bj bond 
For int'rest sake, or swarming into 'elans 66F 

Benoatu one head for purposes of war. 
Like flow'rs selected from the rest, and bound 
And bundled close to fill some crowded Tase, 
Fades rapidly, and, by compressbn marr'dy 
Contracts dc^em^t not to be endur'd. 671 

Hence chartered boroughs are such pnblick plagues 
And burghers, men immaculate perhaps 
In all their private functions, once combin'd« 
Become a loathsome body, only fit 
For dissolution, hurtful to the m&in. GK 

Hence merchants, unimpeachable of sm 
Against the charities of domettick life, 
Incorporated, seetn at once to lose 
Their nature ; and, disclaiming all regard 

' For mercy and the common rights of nuui, G60 

Build Stories wilh blood, condiicting trade 
At the sword's point, and dying the white robe 
Of innocent commercial Justice red. 
Hence, too, the field of glory, as the world 
Misdeems it, dazzled by its bright array, 665 

With all its majesty of thund'ring pomp. 
Enchanting musick, and immortal wreaths, 
Is but a school, where thoughtlessness is taught 
On principle, where foppery atones 
For foUy, gallantry for ev'ry vice. QM 

But slighted as it is, and by the great 
Abandon'd, and, which still I moro regret, 
Infected with the manners and the modes ^ — 

It know not once, tho country winsjne-atiU. 
I never fram'd a wish, or forra'd a plan, OOi 

That flaiter'd me witli hopes of earthly blisi^ 



TTTT: VriNTER EVENING. 95 

/|ut there I laid the scene. There early strty'd 
My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice 
Had found me, or the hope of bein^ fiMf. 
My very dreams were rural ; rural too 7B0 

The first-bom efforts of my youthful rnxmBf 
Sportive and jingling her poetick bells, 
E«B0Cyet her ear was mistress of their pow^ 
No bard could please me but whose lyre was toA'4 
To Nature's pndses. Heroes and tiisir feats . 706' 
Fatig^n'd me, never weary of the pipe 
Of Tityrus, assembling, as he sang, 
The rustiek throng beneath his filv'rxte beedi. 
Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms c 
New to my taste, his Paradise surpas^d 710 

The struggUng efforts of my boyish t<mgue 
To speak its excellence. I danc'd for joy. 
I marvell'd much that, at so ripe an age 
As twice seven years, his beauties had then first 
Engag'd my wonder ; and admiring still, 715 

And still admiring, with regret soppoi^ 
The joy half lost, because not sooner found. 
There, too, enamoor'd of the Ufe I lov*d, 
Pathetick in its praise, in its pursuit • 
Determin'd and possessing it at last, 790 

With tran^orts such as.fiivour'd lovers feel, 
1 studied, priz'd, and wish'd that I had known. 
Ingenious Cowley ! and, though now reolaim'd 
By modem lights £rom on erroneous taste, 
I cannot but laaiOBt thy ^lendid wit 795 

Entangled in the eobwebs of the schools. 
I stm revere thee, courtly though retir'd ; 
!^0ugh stretch'd at ease in Chertsey's i^ent bow*n. 
Not unemploy'd ; and finding rich amends 
For a lost world in solitude and verse. 730 

Tis bom with all : the love of Nature's w<»ks 
Is an ingredient in the compound man, 
lafbs'd at the creation of the kind. 
And, though th' Almighty Maker has throughout 



At THK TASK. 

DiscciiDinated each (fom each, by stroke* 798"- 

And touches of his Imnd, with so mueh ait 
Diversified, thai two were never found) 
Twins at all point**— yet this obtains in all 
That all diflpHOLa beaalj^iftjMs. works, 
And all can taste, them : minds that have beett ^niill ' 
And tutor'd vHk a relish more eza^, TtA' 

But Done witjout some reHsh, none unmov'd. 
It is a flame, that diea not even there, 
Where ntothing fe eds it : ■ neither 'hostness, erew^ 
Nor habits of Tuxurioua city life, 70 

Whatever eh» they smother of tmr iivvitil 
In human bosoms^ jquench at or ahatet 
The villas,, with which London standa beftirf^ 
Like a swarth Indian. wiUi his belt 4>f bead* 
Prove it. A breath of unadultrate air- '7^ 

The glimpse of a^green pasture, how tfaeyfcMyeT' 
The citizen, and brace his languid iia^iei 
S'fH in the stifitng booom of the town: 
A g(U[dfin? in whifth nothiiig thriiEes,. h a gcfa wm it 
That sooth the rich possosaer ; m]ich.oQn8ol*>dy 7SS' 
' That here and there some sprigs iof wuBundvl^ttaM' 
Of nightshade, or valeriaik^ grace the w«U 
He cultivates. Tl)««e serve him.witk a.hink 
That Nature livee; that sight-refreshiiqp gnma 
Is still the liv'ry slie delights to wear^ 7^0 

Though sickly san^s of tb* oxidi'raiit whole*. - 
What are the oasemenie linkl witk creepiBg 1 
Tkfi prouder sash^ frented witkA tsagB: 
Of orange, myrtle^ os the fragitaitimead; 
The Frenchman's darling?* are they tmt all ] 
TItat man, immur'd in cites, still rel&iBSi 706' 

His inborn inextinguishable thirst 
Of rural scenes, oompeasatii^. Ills l<aM ' 
By supplemental shifU, the beat ho may ? 
The most unfurnish'd with the means of lifi>> T7E 

And they, that never pass their bcick-wall hoimde^ 
* Mignioaette. 



THE WINTER EVENING. VfT 

Te range thB fields^ and treat their lungs witn air, 
Yet fool tLie burning instinct ; over head 
Suspehd their crStiy- hoses planted thick. 
And water'd duljr. ^here.the piteh«r stands 775 

A fragment, and the* spoutless teapot there ; 
Sad witnesses how close-pent man regrets 
The country, with what ardour ho contrivet 
A peep at Nature, when he can no more. ' ->^ 
' Hail, therefore, patroness of health and easejk /vdO 
And contemplation, heart^consoliiig joys, v^^ 

And harmlc^ pleasures in: the thiong*d abode ^^ 
Of multitidas unknown ! bai l, rural lifej \ 

Address himself ygm> will to tlie puxsuiT' ^^ 

Of honours, or emolument, or fame ; 785 

I shall not add myself to such a chase, 
Thwart his attempts,- or envy his success. 
Borne nMMt be great. Great offices wfll have 
Great talents. And God gives to ev'ry man 
The Tirttie, temper, understanding, taste, ^ 't^O 
That UAs.hiin into life^ and lets him fall ^ 
Jvsl^in' the niche he was ordain'd to fltl. 
To .Uv> 4eUv*rer of an injor'd land 
He gives a tongue t' enlarge upon, a heart 
To £ael,:and courage 4o redress, her wrongs; 71)5 

To monarefas dignity ; to judges sense ; 
To artists ingenuity and skill ; 
To.nie, an-unaml^ous miad, content 
In the low Tale of Hfe, that ewrly fdt 
A wish for esM And kunre, and ere long 
Found here that leisure and that^^Me I wi^'d. 
Vol. II. 9 



800 



THE TASK. 



BOOKT 



THE WINTER MORNI^JG WALK. 



A^UMENT OF THE FIFTH BOOK. 
tk ftwtr inomin*— Tho foddoring of cattle— The woodmta uii 
hia dog— The poultry— Whimsical effectsof a frost at a v^tertall 
—The enmreas of Rustia's" palace of ice— Amuwemeiits <^ «o« 
■arehfr-toVar, one of them— Wart, whence— And whence mo- 
narchy-^he evils of it— English and French loyalty contra«ted 
—The Bastik), and a prisoner there— Lilwty the chJef '^^^'■^ 
Hiendation of this country — Modern patriotism questionftUe, 
iuhI why— The perishable nature of the best human institoti<^ 
—Spiritual liberty not perishable— The slavish stat* of ««»«" ^T 
nature— Deliver him, Deist, if you can— Grace must do |f— -T^ 
res|H}ctive merits of patriots and martyrs stated- Their dimnat 
treatment— Happv freedom of tlio man whom rrace makes froo-- 
His iclish of the Works of God— Address to the Creator. 

TIS morning ; and the sun, with ruddy orb 

Ascending, fires th' horizon ; wh^e the ckmds 

That crowd away before the driving wind, 

More ardent as the disk emerges more, 

Resemble most some city in a blaze, 5 

Seen through the leafless wood. His slanting ray 

Slides ineffectual down the snowy vale, 

And, tinging all with his own rosy hue, 

From ev'ry herb and ev'ry spiry blade 

Stretches a length of shadow o*er the field. !• 

Mine spindling into longitude immense, 

In spite of gravity^ and sage remark 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 99 
rimt I mys^f am bat a fleeting shade, 
Provokes me to a smiio. With eye askance. 
I view the muscular pFoportion'd limb IS 

Transform'd to a lean sliank. The shapeless palri 
As tney designed to mock mo, at my tide, 
Take step for step ; and, as I near approach 
The cottage, walk along the plastered wall, 
PreportYous sight ! the logs without the man. 90 

The verdure of the plain lies buried deep 
Beneath the dazzling deluge ; and the bents, 
And coarfier ^rass, upspearing o'er the rest. 
Of late unsightly and unseen, now' shine 
Conspicuous, and in bright apparel clad, 35 

An d, fiedg'd with icy feathers, nod superb. 
'The' cattle mourn in corners, where the fence 
Screens tliem, and seem half petrified to sleep 
In unrecumbent sadness. There they wait 
, Their wanted fodder ; not like hungering man, 
^ Fretful if unsupplied ; but silent, meek. 

And patient of the slow-pac'd swain's delay. 
\ He from the stack carves out the accustomed load, 
j Deep plunging, and again deep-plunging oft, 
^ I His broad keen knife into the solid mass ; 
n. Smooth as a wall the upright remnant stands, 
iV^ With such undeviating and oven force 
Vl J He severs it away ; no needless care, 
y( f Jjcst storm should overset the leaning pile 
Deciduous, or its own unbalanced weight. 
Forth goes the woodman^ leaving unconcem*d 
The cheerful haunts of man ; to wield the axe, 
And drive tlie wedge, in yonder forest drear, 
I From morn to eve his solitary task. 
I ^haggy^ and lean, and shrewd, with pointed ears 
f And tail cropp'd short, half lurcher and half cur — 
His dog attends him.l Close behind his heel 

^w creeps hB slow ; and now, with many il frisk 
Wide-scamp'ring, snaiclies up the drifted snow 
With iv'ry teeth, or ploughs it with his snout j 5t 



lyO THE TASK. 

Then shakes /lis powdered coat, and boikitfer joy. 
Heedless of all his pranks, the sturdy ehurl 
Moves right toward the mark ; mor stops for «iiglit«. 
But now and then with pressure of his thumb 
T' adjust the fragrant charge of a short tubey IV 

That fumes baneath his nose : tho traUuigicle«4 
Streams far behkul him, scenting all theaib 
. New from the roost, or &om tho neighboring pid* 
Where diligent to oateh the first fiuat gleam 
Of smiling day, they gossip'd side by skid, ' €0; 

Come trooping at the housewife's well kn^wtf Obft 
The featli^'d tribes domcstiok. Uadf on wtag^ 
And half on foot, they brush the fleecy floods 
Conscious and fearful of too deep a plunge. 
The 8g^c£J2F* P^P) <^<^ V^ ^^ shelt'ring eftTQ%. * GS 
To seize the fair occasion ; well they eye 
The scattered grain, and tliievishly resohr'd 
T* escape th' impending famine) often acnt*A , 
As oft return — a pert voracious kind. 
Chan riddance qiuokly made, one only case W 

Remains to eaeh, the seurch of sonny nook, 
Or shed impervious to -the blast. Resigned 
T^ sad necessity, the pfiSiL^®?^'^ 
His wonted strut ; and, wading at their head 
With well-consider'd steps, seems to resent TBS- 

His altcr'd gait, and statelinessretrench'd. 
How find the myriad s, that in summer cheer 
The hills and valleye with tbeur ceaseless Bong% 
Due sustcmanoe, or where subsist they now ? 
Earth yields theia nwight; th' imprisonVl worm is 
safe 88 

Beneath the frozen clod ; all seeds of herbs 
Lie covered close ; and berry-bearing thorns. 
That feed' the thrush, (whatever some 8upp«ae^) 
Afford the smaller minstrels no su|>pfy. 
The long^protracted rigout of the year B^ 

Thins all their niim'cous flocks. In. chinks amikelas 
Tea thousand seek an unmolested end, 



»JI 



"r 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 101 
A J instinct prompts ; self-barted ere thej die. 
The verj rooks and daws forsaite the fields, 
Where neither grob, ner root, nor earth nnt, now 9t 
Repays their labour more ; and perch'd aloft 
Bj the way-tide, or stalking in the path, 
Lean penmonere upon the trav'ller^s track. 
Pick up their nauseous dole, though sweet to them. 
Of Toided pulse or half-digested grain. 96 

The streams are lost amid the splendid blank, 
O'erwhelming all distinction. On the flood| 
Indurated and fiz'd, the snowy weight 
Lies undissolved ; while silently beneath, 
And unperceiy'd, the current ibeals away. IM 

Not so where, scornful of a cheek, it leaps 
The m^ll-d am, dashes on the restless wheel. 
And wantons m the pebbly gulf below : 
No froet can bind it there : its utmost force 
Can. but arrest the light and smoky mist, . 10ft 

That in its fall the liouid sheet throws wide. 
And see wJiere it has hung tlie embroidered banks 
With forms so various, that no pow'rs <^ art. 
The pencil, or the pen, may trace the scene ! 
Here glitt'ring turrets rise, 'upbearing high, 110 

(Fantastick raisarrangement !) on the ro<^ 
Large growth of what may seem the sparkling tMMM 
And shrubs of fairy land. The crystal drope 
That trickled down the branches, fast oengetFd, 
Shoot into pillars of peUuoid length, W^ 

And prop the pile they but adorn'd bef<»e* 
Here grotto within grotto safe defies 
The sunbeam ; there, emboss'd and fretted wild, 
The growing wonder takes a thousand shapes 
£lapricions, in which fiinoy seeks in vain UW 

The likeness of some object' seen before. 
rhus Natui^ works as if to mock at Art^ 
ind in oeHahce of her rival pow'rs ; 
By these fortuitous and ranjora strokes 
Performing such inimitd»le fsHito^ 125 

9« 



tog THE TASK. 

As she with «11 bcr rules can never roai^b. 

Less worthy of applaussv tiiough more admired* 

B«caus« A^jioveltj, the work of man. 

Imperial mistress of the fur-clad Ross,. 

Thy most magniieeat aad mighty freak, 1^ 

The wondexof thft Kogth* No forest fell 

WhenTthou wouldst build; no quarry sent ita«tor«s, 

T' enrich thy walls : but Uiou didst hew tha flood% 

And make th^ marbl^ of the gJhM^-wave.. 

In such a palaoe Arkteas found 135 

Cyrene, when he bore the plaintive tal» 

Of his lost bees to her matumal ears 

Inflacj^ a palaoe poetry might i^ace 

The i^Ooury of Winter ; whero his tibc^ia, 

The gloomy clouds, find VFeapons, arrowy sloet 140 

Skin-piercing volley, blofisem-tMruising: hail, 

And snow, that odea blinds the travllac'acoussa^r 

A»d wraps him. in an unexpected tom^b. 

Silently as a dffeam the fabriek rnse$* 

No souBd: of haiMaer or of saw woA^'there i 14& 

Ice upon ice, th» weU-adjusted parts 

Were soon (mqtHn'd, nev oth^ cem^it ask^d 

Tbia water inteifua'd^ to make tiiem one. 

Lamps gracefVidly disposed, and of all lu^es^ 

niutBiaVl ev'ry i^e : a wat'ry light ISO 

Gleam'd thfough the clear transparency, that aoem'd 

Another moon new ris*n, or meteor fall'n 

Fnm Heav*n to Eartn, of lambent flame serona j 

So stood the brittle prodigy ;. though smooth 

And slipp'ry the materials, yet frost-bound ISbk . 

Firm as a lock* Nor wanted aught witiiin 

That royal residence might well befit, 

Vm grandeur or for use. Long wavy wreallift' 

Of flowers that fear'd no enemy but warmth, 

I)lu8h*d on the pianels. I^rror needed none VSI^ \ 

Where all was vitreous ; but in order due 

Convivial table aad commodious seat 

(What seem'd at least eemoKtctoi^ seat) were that #> 



^ 



199 



175 



THE WINTER MORNINO WALK. Itt 

Sofa, and coach^ and high-built throne angniL 

The same lubricity was found in aU» M 

And all waa moiat to the warm toueh > a 

Of evanescent glory, once a streamy 

Mti soon to sUde into a stream again. 

Alas! 'twas but a mortiijing stroke 

Of undesign'd severitji that g'kne*d» 

(Made by a monarch,) on her own estate. 

On human gyandea r and the courts of kiaga. 

Twas transient in its nature, as in sheir 

Twas durable ; as worthless, as it seem*d 

Intrinsically precious ; to the loot 

Treacherous and false ; it smil'd, and it 

Great princes have great play-things. 
play*d 

At hewing mountains into men,<and some 
At building human wonders mountain-high. 
Some have amus*d the doU, sad years of lift, ^ 
(Life spent in indolence, and therelbre sad,) 
With schemes of monumental fame> and aooght 
By pyramids and mansoleaa pomp, 
Short liv'd themselves, t' inunertalise their hooMk 
Some seek diwsion in the tented field, 185 

And make the sorrows of manluod their spMi. 
Bat war's a game, which, were their subfecta wiee^ 
Kings would not play at. Nations woqU do wefl, 
T' extort their tmnoheons from the pwiy hmdi 
Of heroes, whose infirm and baby minds 100 

Are gratified with mischief; and who spoils 
Beeause men suffer it, their toy, the world. 

When Babel waaconlennded, and the giaat 
Confed'racy of projectors wild and vain 
Was split into divefsity of tongoes^ IBS- 

Then, as a shepherd separates his flook, 
These to tha ophmd; to the yaUs^r theee, 
QioA drove asunder, ^od assign'd thehr let 
To all tha nationa. Ample waa tJ 
He gave them, in its dislnhatien fidr 



|<M , THi: TASK. 

AnJ equal ; and he hade ihem dwell in peace. 

Pcttcc was awhile their care ; they ptotigh'dyaiideowld 

And reaped their plentj without grudge or strife. 

But violence can never longer slebp 

Than human passions please. In every heart 906 

Are sown the sparks that kindle fiery war ; 

Ocoasion needs but fan them, and they blaze. 

Cain had already shed a brother's blood : 

The deluge wash'd it out ; but left unquencb'd 

The seeds of murder in the breast of man. 210 

Soon by a righteous judgment in the' line 

Of his descending progeny was found 

Tho f\ig^ artificer of death ; the shrewd 

OontriveV, who first sweated at tlie forge, 

And forc'd the blunt atid yet unbjoodied steel 816 

To a keen edge, and made it bright for war. 

Him, Tubal nam'd, the Vulcan of old times, 

The sword and £iIchion their inventor claim ; 

And the first smith was the first murderer's ison. 

His art surviv'd the waters ; and ere long, 210 

When man was multiplied and spread abroad 

In tribes and clans, and had begun to call 

These meadows and that range of hill^ his own. 

The tasted sweets of property begat 

Desire of more ; and inottstry in some, S86 

T' improve and cultivate their just demesne, 

Made others covet what they saw fk> fair. 

Thus war began* on Earth : the^e fought for spoDi 

And those in self-defence. Savage at first 

The onset, and irregular. ' At length 890 

One eminent above the rest for strength, 

P*or stratagem, for courage, or for all, 

Was chosen leader ; him they serVd in war, 

And him in peace, for sake of warlike deeds, 

Rev'renc'd no leas. Who could with him compwr« ? 

Or who so worthy to control themselves, 230 

As he, whose prowess Imd vubdci'd thdir foe« > 

Thus war, afiTordinff field fov the display 



J 



THE WINTER MORNING ,WALK. 
Of virtue, made one cf^gf, whom times of peace. 
Which have their exigencies too, and call 
^or skill in government, at lengtfa made king^ 
King; was a name too proud for man to wear 
With modestj and meekneis ; and the orowQ 
So dazzling in their eyes, who set it on, 
Was sure t' intoxicate the brows it bound 
It is the abject property of most, 
That, being parcel of tfa» common maas^ 
And destitute of means to raise tbemseiVM, 
They sink^ and settle lower than, they need* 
They know not what it is to feel within 
A -comprehensive fiumlty, that gr as p s 
Great purposes wath ease, that tvffns and ^R4^Ste| 
Almost witheitl an effibrt^ plans too vast 
For their ooneeptioni in^teh they camot nofOb 
Conscious of impotMice they soon grow drank 
With gazing, when th^ see an aUe maa- 
3iep forth to notice r and, besotted tfansy 
Bnild hun a pedestal, and say, ^ Stand there, 
** And be our admiration and onr praise.*' 
They roll themselves before him in the dvsl^ 
Then most deserving in their own aoeoanti 
When most extravagant^ in hta-appiaose, 
As if, exalting him, th^ rais^ the uisel r oa 
Thus by degrees, selfrdiealed cf their soomI 
And sober judgment, that be is bnt man, 
They ^egoiHleigt, and fume him so, 
That in due season he forgets it too. 
Inflated and astrut with self conceit, 
He grulps the windy diet; and ere long^ 
Adopting their mistalw, profoundly Uaaks 
Tlie world was made in vninv if not for hinu 
Tkenceforth tU«y. sre hie cattle ; drudfe% beni* 
To bear his burdMia, drawing ih his gears^ 
And sweating in his serviee, his oaprkse 
Becomes the soul that animates them aJL 
He deems a tbottsand, or ten thousand lives. 



MO 



245 



fM 



9I» 



m THE T.VSK. 

Spent iu ihc purchase of renown for him, 

An easy rcck'nutg : and they think the i 

Thus kings were ilrst invented, and thus kings 

Were burnished into heroes,. and becjupe 288 

The ajrbij££^ of this terraqueoos swamp ; 

Storks among frogs, that have bat orook'd and died 

Strtogo, that such folly, as lifls bk>ated man 

To eminence, fit only for a god, 

SUould ever drivel out of human lips, 98S 

E'en in the cradled weakness of the world ! 

Still stranger much, that, when at length mankmd 

Had reached the sinewy firmness of their youth. 

And could discriminate and argue well 

On subjects m<Nre mysterious, they were yet S90 

Babes in the cause of freedom, and should ifoar 

And qual^e before the gods-themsehres bad ma/i i 

But above measure strange, that neither proof 

Of sad oxperlence, nor examples set 

By some whose patriot virtue has prevail'd; 39& 

Can even now^, when they aro grown mature 

In wisdom, and with philosophick deeds 

Familiar, serve t' emanci£ato the rest *. 

Such dupes are men to custom, and so prone 

To reverence what is ancient, and can plead 300 

A course of long observance tar its use,^ 

That even servitude, tlje worst of ills, 

Because delivered down from sire to son. 

Is kept and guarded as a sacred thing. 

But is it fit, or can it bear the shook JD5 

Of rational discussion, that a man. 

Compounded and made up like other men 

Of elements tumultuous, in whom lust 

And folly in as ample measure meet 

As in the bosoms of the slaves he rules, 31# 

Should be a despot absolute, and boast 

Himself the only freeman of his land? 

Should, when be pleases,, and* on whom he will, 

Wage war, with any or ^'xth no pretence 



f ' 



THE WINTEE MORNING WALK. lOT 
Of provocation gir'n, or wrong tastain'd, 315 

And force the beggarly last doit by meaM 
That his own hnmour dtetates, from the dnlth 
Of Poverty, that thvs he may procure 
His thousands, weary of penurious life, 
A splendid opportimity to die ? 380 

Say ye, who (with- less prndence than of old 
Jotham ascrib'd to his assembled trees 
In politick convention) put your trust • 

r th* shadow of a bramble,- and, reclined 
In fancied peace beneath his dang'roos bnakcHh 38S^ 
Rejoice in him, and celebrate his sway» 
Where find ye passive fortitude ? Whence epriiige 
Tour self-denying zeal, thai£^ holds it good 
To stroke the prickly grievance, and to hang 
His thotns with streamets of continual (waise ? 380 
We too are fi^BsdflLto U yalty . We love 
The king who loves the law, respects his bounds, 
And reigns content within them : him we serve ' 
Freely and with delight, who leaves us fne : 
But recollecting still that he is man, 335 

We ^^nat him not too far. King though he be. 
And king in England too, he may bo weak 
And vain enough to be ambitious rtill ; 
May exercise amiss his proper powers, 
Or covet more than freemen cl)oose to grant * 310 
Boydnd that mark is treason. He is ovrs, 
T* administer, to guard, t' adorn the state. 
But not to warp or change it. We aire his. 
To serve him nobly in the common cause, 
True to the death ; but not to be his slaves. 815 

Mark now the difiTrence, ye that boast your love 
Of kings, between your loyalty and ours. 
We love the man ; the paltry pageant, yoas 
We the chief patron of the commonwealth ; 
Tou, the regardless author of its woes: SSO 

We, for the sake of libert}!", a king ; 
Tou, chains and bondage for a tyrant*s sake 



I 



^^^^— 



'406 TH£ TASK. 

ODttr love if prineiple, and has its root 
In reason ; ta j»ticiott8» manly, free ; 
Toon, a Uind inatinoti eMoakea to the rod, 855 

And licks the foot that tveadait in the dvst. 
Were kingship aa tme trenaore aait aeaflMP^ 
ISierling, and worthy of a wiae maD*a wiah, 
I would not be a king^ to be belgacSl 
Causeless, and danb'd with nndiaeeming pniaey > SfiO 
Where love is mero. attachment to the thBona, 
Not to the man who fiBa ttaa he enght. 

Whoae freedom is by saffouiae^jaDdAt wiil 
Of a superioury be is never free. 
WlipJiTe8,aadianotweaxy<^a.]ti8 .SK 

£zpoa*d to manadea, defexrea them waU. 
The stete Uiat>atriTe8 for Ittwrty, UMngh foiFd, 
> And fota'd io^abandon what ahe bravely soifhly 
Deservea at least apphiuae for her attampt, 
And.pity for her loaa. Bat that'toA cause 330 

Not often miaacoeasful : pow'r naufpU 
Is weakneaa when oppoa'd ; censcioiia of^wtong, 
^Tis pusillanimous and prone to fli|^. 
But slaves, that onoe eonceive the. {Rowing thevghi 
Of freedom, in that hgiifijtftalf poaaeaa 275 

All that the c<mtest calls fp r ; qiirit, atrei^thy 
The scorn of danger, and united hearts ; 
The surest presage of the good they seek.* 

Then shame to manhood, and opprobrieBS.iBQt0 
To France than all her leases and defoat% 380 

Old or of later date, by aaa or land, 
Her house of bondage, worae than that af eld 
Which God aveng^ on Fharaob-^^die BagUls 
Te horrid iew'ra, th' abode of broken heasta : 
Ye dungeons, and ye cagea of despair, 385 

That monarohs have soj^ed from mge to age 

* The anthor hopes that he shall not be censored "tbr un- 
necessary warmth apou So interestia^ a mi^etL He is 
aware, that it is become almost ^isluonable, to stigmaliae 
such sentiments as no belter than empty declamation ; but it 
is an in symptom, and peculiar to modem times. 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. !(» 
With miuick, each as suits their sov'reigii ea»— 
The sighs and groans of miserable men ! 
There's not an English heart that would not leap 
To hear that ye were ftlTn at last ; to know 90i 

That e'en enr enemies, so oft employM 
In forging chains lor ns, themselves were free. 
For he who values Liberty , eonfinefl 
His zeal for her jMredominanee witfaiii 
No iHtfrowbevBds ; her cause engages him SOI 

Wherever pleaded. Tis the cause of man. 
There dm^ the most fbrlom c^ human kind, 
Immor'd though unacous'di condemnM untried, 
Cruelly f^mr'd, and hopeless of escape. 
There, Uke the visionary emblem seen 400 

By him of Babylon, tife stands a stamp, 
And, filleted about with hoops of brass. 
Still lives, though dl his {feasant bought are gottd. 
To count the hourJaQ.aad expect no diange ; 
And ever as the sullen sound is heard, 405 

Still to reflect,^that, though a joyless note 
To him whose moments all have one dtiU pace, 
Ten thousand rovers in the world at large 
Account it musidk ; that it summons some 
To theatre, or jocund feast, or baH ; 410 

The wearied hireling finds it a release 
From labour ; and the lover, who has chid 
Its long delay, febis evVy weteobie stroke 
Upon his heart-elrings, trembfing with defight-*- 



To fly for refuge from distracting thou^ 
To such amusements as ingenious wo 
Contrives, hard shifting, and without her tools 
To read engraven on the mouldy walls, 
In stagg'riog types, his predecessor's tale, 
A sad memorial, asd subjoin his own— 
To turn purveyor to an overgorg'd 
And bloated spider, till the pamperM pest 
Is made familiar, watches his approach, 
C^mos at his oall, and serves liim for a friend-^ 
Vol.11 10 



419 



420 



119 THE TASK. 

To wear out timo in luunb'ring to and fro 425 

The studs that thick emboss his iron door ; 

Then downward and then upward, then asknt, 

And then alternate ; with a sickly hope 

By dint of change to give his tasteless task 

Some relish ; till the suro^ exactly found 430 

In all directions, he begins again — 

O comfortless existence ! hemm'd around 

With woes, which who that sufiers would n^ kneel 

And beg for exil^ or the pangs of death ? 

That man should thus encroach on fellow mtAy ^33 

Abridge him of his just and native rights, 

Eradicate him, tear him from his hold 

Upon th' endearments of domestic life 

And social, nip his ^uitfulness and use. 

And doom him for perha|>s a heedless word 44$ 

To barrenness, and solitude, and tears. 

Moves indignation, makes the name of king, 

(Of king whom such prerogative can please) 

As dreadful as tlie Manichean god, 

Ador'd through fear, strong only to destroy. 441 

Tis liberty alone, that gives the flower 
Of fleeting life its lustre and perfume ; 
And we are weeds without it AU constraint^ 
Except what wisdom lays on evil men. 
Is evil : hurts the faculties, impedes 450 

Their progress in the road of science ; blinds 
The eyesight of Discovery ; and begets, 
In those that suffer it, a sordid mind* 
Bestial, a meager intellect, unfit 
To be the tenant of man's noUe fimn. 4S& 

Thee therefore still, blameworU^ as thou art, 
With all thy loss of empire, and though sqnees'd 
By publick exigence, till annual food 
Fails for the craving bunker of the state. 
Thee J account still h?ippy, and the chief - 404 

Among tho nations, seoing thou art free ; 
My native nook of earth I Tliy clime is riido. 



THfi WINTER MORNING WALK. Ill 
Replete with vapoars, and disposes much 
All kearts to sadness, and none more than mine t 
Thine unaduHerate manners are less toft 465 

And plausible than.soetal life requires, 
And thou hast need of discipline and art, 
To give thee what politer France recerref 
From Nature's bounty — that humane addroM. 
And sweetness, without which no pleasure is 4?0 

In eonTerse, either starv'd by cold reserve, 
Or flush'd by fierce dispute, a senseless brawl. 
Yet, beii^ f^, I love thee : for the sake 
Of that one feature can be well (ontent, 
Disgrac'd as thou hast been, poor as then art, 475 
To seek no sublunary rest bende. 
But once enslav'd, farewell ! I could endure 
Chains no where patiently ; and chains at home; 
Where I am free by birthright, not at alL 
Then what were left of roughness in the grain 485 
Of British natores, wanting its excuse 
That it belongs to freemen, would disgust 
And shodL me. I shotild then -with double pain 
Feel all the rigotnr of thy fickle clime ; 
And, if I must bewail tl^ blesnng lost, 486 

For which our Hampdens and our Sidneys bled, 
I would at least bewail it under ddes 
ABlder, among a people less austere ; 
In scenes, which having never known me firee. 
Would not reproach me with the loss I felt. 490 

Do I forebode impossible events. 
And tremble at vain dreams f Heav*n grant I may t 
But th' age of virtuous politicks is past. 
And we are deep in that of cold pretence. 
Patrick are grown too shrewd to be sincere, 495 

And we too ^ise to trust them. He that takes 
Deep in his soft credulity the stamp 
Designed by loud deelaimers on. the part 
Of liberty, (themselves the slaves of lust,) 
Tncurs derision for his easy faith 50Q 



Its THE TASK. 

And lack of knowledge, and with cause eikoagb . 
For when was |mbUck virtno lo be founds 
Whore private was not ? Can ho loTe the wkole^ 
Who loves no part ? He be a nation's friend, 
Who is in truth the friend of no man there ? 60B 

Can he be stranuous in hla country's oanse, 
Who slights the charities, for whose dear sak* 
That couatry, if at all, must be belov'd i 

'Tis therdfofre r^iber and good men are sad 
For England^ glory) seeing it wax pale 51i 

And sickly, while her chamjnons wear their hmxU 
&o looge to p^sa^ d^ty, that no brain 
Healthful and ondistnrb'd by factious fumea. 
Can dream them trusty to liie gen'nd weaL 
Such were they not (^ dd, whose tempered bladM 519 
Dispdrs'd the idiackles of usurp'd oonlrd, 
And hew'd them link from link ; then Albianls wmm 
Were sons indeed ; they fdi a filial heart 
Beat high within them at a mother's wrong*) 
And, shining each in bis domestiek sphere, GSQ 

Shone brighter still, oaoe call'd to publiek ww. 
Tis therefore mamy, whose sequester'd lot , 
Forbids their interference, looking oa 
Anticipate perforce some dire event ', 
And seeing the old castte of the stete, • £85 

That promis'd once more firmness, so asiaiifd^ 
That all its tempest-beaten turrets shake. 
Stand motionless expectants of its &11. 
All has its date below ; the fatal hoer 
Was rogistor*d in Hoav'n ere time began. 83B 

We turn to dust, and all our mightiest workt 
Die too : the deep fbundations that we lay. 
Time ploughs them up, and not a trtaoe remaink 
We build with what we deem eternal roSk ; 
A distant age a8k» where the fiibrick stood ; 63S 

And in the dust, sifted and searcfa'd in tain 
The undiscoverable secret sleeps. 

But there is yet a ]^fi£t$:, unsung 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. US 
By poetSy and bj senators imprais'd, 
Which monarohs cannot grant, nor all tbo pow*ni 510 
Of Earth and Hell confederate take away : 
A liberty, which persecution, firaud, 
Oppression, prisons, haye no pow'r to bind 
Which whoso tastes can be enslaved no more. 
Tis liberty of he art doriy'd from Heay'n, 545 

Bought with his blood, who gave it to mankiiid, 
And sealed with the same token. It is held 
By charter, and that charter sanctioned siire 
By th' unimpeachable and awfid oath 
And promise of a God. Hia other giftf &50 

An bear the rojral stamp that speaks them hiiy 
And are angnst ! but this transcends them alL 
^His other works, the Yisible display 
Of all-creating energy and might, 
Are grand, no doobt, and worthy of the word 666 
That, finding an interminable space 
Unoccupied, has fill*d the void so wel), 
And made so sparkling what was dariL before. 
Bat these are not his glory. Man, 'tis tr«e> 
Smit with the beauty of so fair a scene, 600 

Might wen suppose th' artificer divine 
Meant it eternal, had he .not himself ^ 
Pronounc'd it transient, glorious as ^ is, 
And, stiU designing a more glorious &i, 
Doom'd it as insufficient for his praise. 661 

These thofrefore are occasional, and pass ; 
Form'd for the confutation of the fool, 
Whose lying heart disputes against a -God ; 
That office served, they must be swept away. 
Not so the labours of his love : Uieyshino 570 

In other bea.]^ than these that we behold, 
And~&de^ot There is FtfftdiMithat fears . 
No forfeiture, and of its fruhshefiends ' 
Large prelibation oil to saints bel^w. 
Of these t^e first in order, and the pledge, 571 

\nd confident assurance of the rest, 
10» 



114 TUK MASK. 

fs liberty ; a flight into ins arms, 

Ere yet mortality's fine threads give way, 

A clear escape iiom tyrannising lost. 

And full immunity from penal wo. 580 

Chains are the portion of reyoltod man, 
Stripes, and a dungeon ; and his body serve* 
The triple purpose. In that eicUy, fouli 
Opprobrious residence, he &»<fJi» them alK 
Propense his heart to idols, he is held 66( 

In idlly dotage on created things, 
Careless of their Creator. And that low 
And sordid gravitatioB of his pow'ls 
To a vile clod, so draws him, with such fi>i«ft 
Resistless from the centre he shoold seek^ 600 

That he at last forgets it. All his hopes 
Tend downward ; his ambitio9A is to sink| * 

To reach a depth profoonder still, and stiU 
Profpunder, in the fathiunless abyss 
Of folly, plunging in pursuit of death. 60f 

But ere he gain the comfortless repose 
He seeks, and aequiescence of his soul 
In Heav^n-renouttoiog exile, he endures— 
What does he not, from l«ttg oppes'd in vun^ 
And self-reproachingj^nafiiAnee ? He fo re se es 600 
The fatal issue to his health, fame, paaee^ 
Fortune, and dignity ; the loss of all 
That can ennoble man and make frail life* 
Short as it is, supportable. Still worse^ 
Far worse than all the plagves with which his sns 
Infect his happiest moments, he forbodes 000 

Ages of hopeless mis'ry. Future death, 
And death still future. Not a hasty stroke^ 
Like that wiiieh sends him to the dusty graw « 
But unrepealable, enduring, death. 610 

Scripture is still a trumpet to his fears : 
What none can prove a forgery, may be true , 
What none but bad men wish exploded, nuist 
That scruple chocks him. Riot is not loud 



— ^- 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 115 
Nor drunk enough to drown it. In the midst 615 
Of laughter his companctiona are sincere ; 
And he abhors the jest by which he shine& 
Riwirorse b egets reform^ His ma^er-luat 
Fidls first before his resolute rebuke. 
And seems dethron'd and vanquish'd. Peace ensues, 
But spurious and s^jocliixld : the puay child 691 

Of self -congratulating Pride . begot 
On fancied Innocence. A^g^aJia^Uk^ 
And fights again ; but finds, his best essay 
A presage ominous, portending still 696 

Its own diidionour by a worse relapse. 
Till Nature, unavailing Nature, foil'd 
So oft, and wearied in the vain aUempt, 
Scofis at her own performance, ^s^ukueumw 
Takes part with appetite, and plM^Jhe caasft 691^ 
Perversely, which of late she so condemn'd; 
With shallow shifts uid old devices, worn 
And tatter'd in the service of debauch, 
Ckiv'ring his shame from his o£&nded sight. 

'' Hath God indeed giv'n appetites to man, 699 
And stored the earth so plenteously with means 
To graUfy the hunger of his wish ; 
And dotii he reprobate, and will he damn 
The use of his own bounty ? making first 
So frail a kind, and then enacting laws < 619 

So strict, that less than perfect most despair ? 
Falsehood ! which whose but suspects -of troth^ 
Didionours God, and makes a slave of man. 
Do they themselves, who undertake fisr hixs 
The teadier's office, and dispense at large 646 

Their weekly dole of edifying strains, 
Attend to their own musick ? have they faith 
In what, with such solenmity of tone 
And gesture, they propound to our belief? 
Nay— Ckmduot hath the loudest tongue. The voioe 
Is but an instrument, on which the priest 651 

May play what tune he pleases. In the deed, 



116 THfiTASK. 

The unequivocal, autheutiok deed, 
We find sound argument, we road the heart." 

Such reas^mngs (if that name must needs belong 
T' excuses in which reason has no part) 65d 

Serve to coin2ose a spirit well inclin'd 
To tive on terms of amity with Ticoi 
And sin without disturbance. Often urg*d, 
(As often as, libidinous dfttotmno 000 

Exhausted, he resets to solemn themes 
Of theological and grave import,) 
Thej gain at last his unreserr'd assent ; 
Till, hardened his heart's temper in the forge 
Of lust, and on the anvil of despair, GfA * 

He slights the strokes of conscience. Nothing moves, 
Or nothing much, his constancy in ill ; 
Vain tamp'ring has but foster'd his disease ; 
Tis desp*rate, and he sleeps the sleep of death- 
Haste, now, philosopher, and set him free. 670 
Charm the deaf serpent wisely. Make him hear 
Of rectitude and fitness, moral truth 
How lovely, and the moral sense how sure, 
* Consulted and obey*d, to guide his steps 
Directly to the^r^t and only fair. 675 
Spare not in such a cause. Spend fall the pow'is 
Of rant and rhapsody in virtue's praise ; 
Be most sublimely good, verbosely grand. 
And with poetick trappings grace thy prose, 
Till it out-mantle all the pride of verse.— 680 
Ah, tinkling cymbal, and high sounding brass, 
Smitten in vain ! such musick cannot charm 
The eclipse, that mtereepts truth's heav'nly beam 
And chills and darkens a wide wandVing soul. 
The stUl smaU voic e is wanted. He must speak, - 686 
Whose word leaps forth at once to its effect ; 
Who calls for things that are not, and they come. 

Grace makes the slave a fireeman. Tis a change 
That turns to ridicule the turgid speech 
And stately tone of moraJists, who boast - OHf 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 117 

As if, like bim of fabulous renown^ 
They had indeed ability to smooth 
The shag of savage nature, and were each 
An Orpheus, and omnipotent in song , 
But transformation o£ apostate man 606 

From fool to wise, from earthly to diTise, 
Is wnrlc fcfj Him thnf r^n^^ him. He aiondy 
And he by means in philosophick eyes 
Triyial and worthy of disdain, achieve* 
Tlie wonder ; humanizing what is bmte 700 

In the lost kind, extracting from the lips 
Of asps their ven<»n, orerpow'ring strength 
By weakness, and hostility bj love. 
' Patriots J iave toiled, aad, in their couatry^s eoose 
Bled oobly ; and their deeds, as they deserve, 70& 
Receive prgu^jre compens e. We give in charge 
T&eir names to the sweet lyre. Th* historick muse. 
Proud of the treasure, marches with it down- 
To latest times ; and Sculpture, in her torn, 
Gives bond in stone and ever*during brass 710 

To guard them, and t' immortalize her trust : 
But fairer wreaths are due, though never paid, 
l^o those who, posted at the shrine of Truth, 
Have fairn in her defence. A patriot's blood, 
Well i^nt in such a strife, may earn indeed, 715 
And, for a time, ensure to his lov'd land 
The sweets of liberty and equal laws ; 
But martyrs at rufff^e for .a brighter prize, 
And win it with more pain. Their blood is shed 
In confirmation' of the noblest claim — 720 

Our claim to feed upon immortal truth, 
To walk with God, to be divinely free, 
To soar, and to anticipate the skies. 
Yet few rembmber tbtp i- They liv'd unknown, 
Till persecution dragg'd them. into feme, 785 

And chas'd them up to Heaven. Their ashes flew 
—No marble tells us whither. With their namee 
Ko bard embalms and sanctifies his song : 



119 • THE TASK. 

And history, so warm on m.eaner themes, 

Is cold on this. She execrates indeed 731 

The tyranny that doom*d them to the fire, 

But gives the glorious suflTrers little praise.* 

He is the freeman whom the truth makes fij^sftf 
And all are slaves beside. There*s not a chain 
That he^ish foes, confederate for his harm, 735 

Can wind around him, but he casts it ofiT 
With as much ease as Samson his green withea 
He looks abroad into the varied field 
Of nature, and though poor, perhaps, compar'd 
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, 740 
Calls the delightiiil scenery all his own. 
His are the mountains, and the valleys his, 
And the resplendent rivers. His t' enjoy 
With a propriety that none can feel. 
But who, with filial confidence inspired, 749 

Can lifl to heav'n an unpresumptuous eye, 
And smiling say — ^" My Father made them all !*• 
Are they not his by a peculiar rights 
And by an emphasis of interest his. 
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, 7W 

Whose lioart with praise, and whose exalted mind 
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love. 
That planned, and built, and still upholds a world 
So cloth'd with beauty for rebellious man ? 
Yes — ^ye may fill your garners, ye that reap 756 

Tiie loaded soil, and ye may waste much good 
In senseless riot ; but ye will not find 
In feast or in the chase, in song or dance, " 
A liberty like his, who, unimpeach'd 
Of usurpation, and to no man's wrong, 760 

Appropriates nature as his Father^s work. 
And has a richer use of yours than you. 
Ho is indeed a freeman. Free by birth 
Of no mean city; plann'd or ere the hillfi 

♦ See Hume. 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK. 119 
VI 9re built, the fountains oj^n'd, or the sea, 766 

^ith all his roaring multitude of waves. 
His freedom is the same in ev'ry state ; 
Aiid no condition of this changeful lifoi 
80 manifold in cares, whose ev'rj day 
Brings its own evil with it, makes it less : 770 

For he has wings, that neither sicknesii, pain, 
Nor penary, can cripple or confine. 
No nook so narrow, but he spreads them there 
With ease, and is at* large. Th* oppressor liddi 
His body bound ; but knows not what a rm^e 775 
His $>irU tages, unconscious cf a chain; 
And that to bind him is a vain attempt, 
Whom God delights in, and in whom He dwells. 

Acquaint thyself with Qo§^ if thou would'st tasta 
Hisworkiu Admitted once to his embrace, 780 

Them shalt perceive that thou wast blind before : 
Thine eye shall be instructed ; and thine heart, 
Made pure, shall relish with divine delight, 
Till then unfolt, what hands divine have wrought. 
Brutes graze the mountain>top, with faces* prone, 785 
And eyes intent upon the scanty herb 
It yields them ; or, recumbent on its brow, 
Ruminate heedless of the iscene out^read 
Beneath, beyond, and stretching far away 
From inland regions to the distant- main. 790 

Man views it, and admires ; but rests content 
With what he views. * The landscape has his praise, 
But not its author. Unconcem'd who formed 
The Paradise he sees, he finds it such. 
And such well pleas'd to find it, asks no more. 706 
Not so the mind that has been tonch'd from Heavli, 
And in the school of sacred wisdom taught 
To read His wonders, in whose thought the world. 
Fair as it is, existed ere it was. 
Nor for its own sake merely, but for his 800 

Much more who fashion'd it, ho gives it praise ; 
Praise that from earth resulting, aa it ought. 



IdO THE TASK. 

To earth's ac^owledg'd s^v'reign, finds at once 

Its only just proprietor in Him.' 

The soul that sees him, or receives subHm'd 60ft 

New faculties, or learns at least t' employ 

More worthily the powers she own'd before, 

Discerns in all things what, with stupid gaio 

Of ignorance, till then she overlook'd) 

A raj ofhejB,yen]^Jight, gilding all forms 810 

Terrestrial in the vast and the minute ; 

The unambiguous footsteps of the God, 

Who gives its lustre to an insect's wing, 

And wheels his throne upon the rolling ^rlds. 

Much conversant with Heaven, she often holds 8Ift 

With those hir ministers of light to man, 

That fill the skies nightly with silent pomp, . 

Sweet conference. Inquires what strains wece th^y 

With which Heaven rang, when every i^ar, in haaUm 

To gratulate the new-created earth, 880 

Sent forth a voice, and all the sons of Gbd 

Shouted for joy. — ^^ Tell me, ye shining hoitty 

That navigate a sea that knows no storms, 

Beneath a vault unsullied with a doud. 

If from your elevation, whence ye view 88S 

Distinctly scenes invisible to man, 

And systems, of whose birth no tidings yot 

Have reach'd this nether world, ye spy a raee 

Favour'd m om« ; transgressors from the weak 

And hasting to a grave, yet doom'd to rise, 830 

And to possess a brighter Heaven than yovm I 

As one, who, long detained on foreign akon^ 

Pants to return, and when he sees afitf 

His conntry's weather-bleach'd and batter'd rocfcfl, 

From the green wave emerging, darts an eye B36 

Radiant with joy toward the happy land^ 

So I with animated hopes behold. 

And many an aching wish, your beamy fires, 

That show like beacons in the blua abyss, 

Ordiun'd to guide th' embodied spirit home 640 



THE WINTER MORNING WALK 1S| 
From toilsome lifo to never-ending rest. '- ^ . j. '^'^' 
Love kindles as I gaze. I feel desires 
That give assurance of their own saccesf , 
And that, infus'd fVom Heaven, must thither tend.* 

So reg^ he Nature, whom the lamp of tr^th 845 
IIIaminates7 Thy lamp, mysterions Word ! 
Whtch whoso sees, no longer wanders lost, 
With intelleets bemaz*d in endless douBt, 
But pama the roo^ of wisdom. Thou hast built 
With means that were not, till by thee employed, 860 
Worlds that had never been, hadst thou in strength 
Been less, or less benevolent than strong. 
They are thy witnesses, who speak thy pow^ 
And goodness infinite, but speak in ears 
That hear not, or receive not their report. 865 

In vain thy creatures testify of thee, 
t^Q thou procla^ thyself. Theirs is indeed 
A teaching voice ; bat tis the praise of thiae, 
That whom it teaches it makes prompt to letray 
And with the boon gives talents for its use. 808 

Till thou art heard, imaginations vain 
Possess the heart, and &bles fblse as hell : 
Yet deem'd oracular, lure down to death 
The uninform'd attd heedless souls of men. 
We give to chance, t^ind chance, ourselves as bliad| 
The glory of thy work ; which yet appears 95$ 

Perfect and unimpeachable of bkme, 
Challenging human scrutiny, and prov*d 
Then skilful most when most severely judged. 
But chance is not ; or is not where thou reign^st : 870 
Thy providence forbids that fickle pow*r 
(If pow*r she be, that works but to confound) • 
To mix her wild vagaries with thy laws. 
Tet thus we dote, refusing while we can 
Instruction, and inventing to ourselves 878 

Gods such as guilt makes welcome ; gods that sleep^ 
Or disregard our follies, or that sit 
Amus'd spectators of thjs bustling stage. 

VoL.IL ^ 11 



IS THE TASK. 

Thee we reject, unable to abide 

Thj purity, till pure as thou art pure, 860 

Made such by thee, we love thee for that cauaei 
For which we shunn'd and hated thee before. 
TJien we. are free. Then liberty, like day, 
Breaks on the sool, and by a flash from heav'n 
Fires all the faculties with glorious joy. 886 

A voice is heard that mortal ears hear XK>t, 
Till thou hast touch'd them ; 'tis the voice of 
A loud Hosanna sent from all thy works ; 
Which he that hears it, with a shout repeats, 
And adds his rapture to tlie general praise ! 800 

In that blest moment, Nature, throwing wide 
Her veil opaque, discloses with a siiiile 
The author of her beauties, who, retir'd 
Behind his own creation, works unseen 
By the impure, and hears his pow> denied . 890 

Thdu art the source and centre of all minds, 
Their only point of rost, eternal Word ! 
From thee departing, tliey are lost, and rove 
At random, without honour, hope, or peace. 
From thee is all that sooths the life of man, 900 

His high endeavour, and his glad TOficess, 
His strength to suffer, and his will to servo* 
But O thou bounteous Giver of all good, 
Thou art of all thy gifts thyself tho crown ! 
Give what thou canst, witliout thee we are poor; 905 
And with thee riohi take what thou wilt away. 



THE TASKo 



THK WINTKR WALK AT NOON. 



ARGUMENT OP THE SIXTH BOOK 
Bella at a diatanco — Their oiTcct — A fine noon in Printer — A thel* 
tered walk — Meditation bettec titan bookg— Our famtliariti witk 
the course of Nature makes it apjicar less wondorrni tlinn it if — 
T^e transformation tiiat ISpring elTocts in a i>hrubbory, doM^bed 
<r^A mistake concerning the course of Nature cofrected--4>od 
naintains it by an unremitted act — The amusements fashionable 
at this Iy>ur of the day reprove^^Antmals happyy a flight- 
ful sigh^Ori^in of cruelty to animals — That it is a great 
erime proved from Scripture — ^That proof illustrated by a tale— 
A line drawn between tlie lawful and anlawful destruction of 
them — ^Their good and u£i>ru! properties insisted on — Apologi 
for the encomiums bestowed by the author on animffb — Instances 
of man^s extravagant praise of mao— The gro^sof the ceeCr* 
tion shall have an end — A view taken of the restoration of idl 
things — An invocation and an invitation of Him who shall bripf 
it to jiass — Tho retired rasa vindicated from th« charge of tiso- 
lossncss — Conclusion. 



THERE is in souls a s ympathy w ith somids^ 
And as the mind is pitcIT'd, the car is pleas'd 
With melting airs or martial, brisk, or grare ; 
Some chord in unison with what we hoar 
Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies, 
How sof^ the musick of those village belld, 
Falling at intervals upon the ear 
fn cadence sw^et, now dying all away, 
Now pealing loud again, and louder still, 
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on ! 



10 



124 THK TASK. 

With easy force it opens all the cells 

Where Mem'ry slept. Wherever I htvo heard 

A kindred melody, the scene recurs, 

iVnd with it all its pleasures and its pains. 

Such cemprehensive views the spirit tidies, 16 

That in a few short moments I retrace 

(As in a map the voyager his course) 

The bindings of my way through many years. 

Short as in retrospect' the journey seems, 

It seom'd not always short ; the rugged path, 20 

And prospect ofl so dreaxy and forlorn, 

Mov'd many a sigh at its disheartening length. 

Tet feeling present evils, while the past 

Faintly impress the mind or not at all, 

How readily we wish time spent rerok'd, 85 

That wo might try the ground agam, where onee 

(Through inexperience as we now perceive) 

We miss'd that happiness we might have found ! 

Some friend is gone, perhaps his son's hest friend! 

A father, whose authority, in show 30 

When most severe, and mustering all its force, 

Was hut the graver countenance of love ; 

Whose favour, like the clouds of spring, might IcwV^ 

And utter now and then an awful voice. 

But had a hlessing in its darkest frown, 36 

Threatening at onee and nourishing the plant. 

We lov'd, but not enough, the gentle hand 

That rear'd us. At a thoughtless age, aUor*d 

By ev'ry gilded folly, we renounced 

His shelt'ring side, and wilfully forewent 40 

That converse which we now in vain regret. 

How gladly would the man recall to life 

The hoy's neglected sire ! a mother too, 

That softer friend, perhaps more gladly still. 

Might he demand them at the gates of death. iS 

Sorrow has, since they went, subdu d and tam*d 

The playful humour : he could now endure, 

(Himself grown sober in tlio vale ol' tears,) 



J 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 125 
And feci a parent's presence no restraint. 
But not to understand a treasure's worthy 60 

Til^time has stoPn away the slighted good. 
Is caose of half the povery we feel, 
And makes the World the wilderness it is. • 
The few that pray at all, pray ofl amiss, 
And, seeking grace t' im^rovejhe prize they hold, 55 
Would urge a vriser suit tfian asking more. 

The night was winter in its roughest mood ; 
The morning riiarp and clear. But now at noon 
Upon the southern side of the slant hills. 
And where the woods fence off the northern blast| 60 
The season smiles, resigning all its rage. 
And has the wa rmth of May. The vault is bloo 
Without a cloud, and white without a speck 
The dazzling splendour of the dcene below. 
Again the harmony comes o'er the vale ; 66 

And through the trees I view th' embattled towY, 
Whence all the musick. I again perceive 
The soothing influence of the wafted strains. 
And settle in soft musings as I tread 
The walk, still verdant, under oaks and elms, 70 

Whose outspread branches overarch the glade. 
The roof, though moveable through all its length 
As the wind sways it, has yet well suffic'd, 
And, intercepting in their silent lall 
The frequent flakes, has kept a path for me. 76 

No noise is ^ere, or none that hinders thought 
The redrbreast warbles still, but is content 
Witli slender notes, and more than half suppreM'd : 
Pleas'd with his solitude, and flitting light 
from spray to spray, where'er he rests he shakes ,60 
Prom many a twig the pendent drops of ice, 
rhat tinkle in the withered leaves below. 
BHIlncss, accompanied with sounds so soft^ 
Charms more than silence. Meditation here 
May think down hours to moments. Here the heart 86 
May give a useful lesson to the head, 
11* 



=^1J 



196 THE TABK. 

And Learning wiser grow without km books. 

Knowledge and Wisdom, far from being ono, 

Have ofttimes no connexion. v^Knowledge dwelk 

In heads replete with thoughts of ether men ; HA \ 

Wisdom in roinds attentive to their ownA 

Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, 

The mere materials with which Wisdom buflds» 

Till smoothed, and squar'd, and fitted to ks pke*, . ^ 

Does but encumber whom it seems t' enrieh* 99^ 

Knowledge is proud that he has leam'd so tt««h i 

Wisdom is humble that he knows no mere. 

Books are not seldom talismans and ^eUs, 

By which the magiek art of shrewder witu 

Hold an unthinking multitude enUurall'd. IQO 

Some to the fascination of a name, 

Surrender judgment hood-wink'd. Some the styl* 

In&tuates, and through labyrinths and wikis 

Of errour leads them, by a tune entranc'd. 

While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear 105 

The insupportable fiitigue of thought, 

And swallowing, therefore, without panse or ehotoo 

The total grist ussifled, husk^ and all. 

But tree and rivulets, whose rapid course 

Defies the check of winter, haunts of d«er| 110 

And sheep-walks popplous with bleating lambi^ 

And lanes, in which the primrose ere her Unie 

Peeps through the moss, that eiothes the hawtkom 

rooty 
Deceive no student. Wisdom there, and tmU^ 
Not shy, as in the world, aod \o be won liS 

By slow solicUatioUy seize at once 
The roving thought, and fix it on themselvos. 

What prpdigies can pow'r divine perfi^v 
More grand than it produces year by yeaf, 
And all in sight of inattentive man ? ISI^. 

Familiar with th' effect, we (^ght the cauM»| 
And in the constancy of Nature's course, 
The regular return of genial months, 



J 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON, 127 
And roBoratioii of a faded world. 
Bee nought to wonder at. Should Ood again, 1S& 
As once in Gibeon, interropt the race 
Of th' nndeviating and ptmcUud min, 
How would the world Mmire ! But i^e&ka it laat 
An agency dmne, to make hun know 
His moment when to sink and when to rise, 130 

Age after a^, than to aneet his eoWEie f 
C All we behoW v\ miffanW ; hutffeen 
So dnly^ all is Tninw]e.mxai»«^ 
Where now the ^aljanexgjr, umM moy'd 
While summer was, the pure and subtle Ijmfh 135 
Through Ui' imperceptible meand'ring veins 
Of leaf and flow*r ? Itsle^; and th' icy touch 
Of unproMok winter has in^preae'd 
A cold stagnation on th* intestine tide. 
But let the m<mths go round, a lew short months, 140 
And all shall be restor'd. These naked shootSf 
Barren as lances, among which the wind 
Makes wintry musick, sighing as it goes, 
- Shall put their graceful foliage on again, 
And, more aspiring, and wHh ampler spread, 145 

Shall boast new charms, and more than they have lost 
Then each in its peculiar hanonrs dad. 
Shall publish even to the distiult eye 
Its family and tr&e. Xiahunuttn, ru^l 
In streaming gold } ^lia^a, Iv'ry pure> -USO 

The scentleis and the soeated rose ; this red 
And of a humbler growth, the c^er* tall, 
And throwing up kiito the darkest gloom 
Of neighb'ring cypress, or more s^^ yew. 
Her silver globes, light as the foamy «^, 155 

That the wind severs from the b»<dbtti wave ; 
The lilack, vw^ous in array, now white, 
Now sanguine, and her beanteowi head now set 
With purple ipikes pyramidal, as if 
Studious of ornament, yet unresolved 15^ 

* The Guelder Rose. 



128 THE TASK. 

Which hue she most appror'd, she ckoie tiiem ail i 
Copious of flowers, the woodbine, pale and waiiy 
Bnt well compensating her sickly looks ^ 

With never cloying odours, early and lata ; 
Hypericum all bloom, so thidK a swarm lt>d 

Of flowers, like flies clothing her sUnder rods, 
That scarce a leaf appears ; mezereon, too, 
Though' leafless, well-attir*d and thick beset 
With blushing wreaths, investing every spsay; 
Althoea with the purple eye ; the broom 170 

Yellow and bright, as bullion unalloy'd, 
Her blossoms ; and luxuriant above all 
The jasmine, throwing wide her elegai^ sweeU, 
The deep dark green of whose unvarnished leaf 
Makes more conspicuous, and illumines more 175 

The bright profusion of her Icatter'd stara^— 
These have been, and these shall be in their day « 
And all this uniform uncokmrU scene 
Shall be dismantled of its fleecy load, ^ 
And flush into variety again. 160 

From dearth to plenty, and from death to hSd, 
Is Nature's progress, when she lectures man 
In heavenly truth ; evincing, as she makes 
The grand transition, that their live* and works 
A soul in all things, and that soul is Gud. 185 

The beauties of the wilderness are his, 
That makes so gay the solitary place^ 
Where no eye sees them. And the fairer fonnS| 
That cultivation glories in,' are his. 
He sets the bright proceaskm on its way, 190 

And marshals all the order of the year ; 
He marks the bounds, which winter may not pas^ 
And blunts his pointed fury ; in Its case, 
Husset and rude, folds up the tender- germ, 
Uninjur'd, with inimitable art ; 1^^ 

And, ere one flow'ry season &de8 and di.es. 
Designs the blooming wonders of the next. 
Some say that in the origin of .things. 



^ i. i i ^ ^ 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 129 
When aU crMtionflUrted into birthi 
The infant elements foceiv'd a law 200 

From which they swerr'd xu>t einctt. That undei fore^ 
Of that controlling ordinance thej move, " 

And need not His immediate hand who first 
Prescribed their course, to regulate It now. 
Thus dream they, aad contriYej^Liast a^God 20^ 
Th* encimibrance of his own conoemsy and sp«i» 
The great artifioer of aU that moipas 
The stress of a eontmual aet^ the jkub 
Of unremitted irigil^moe and oarst 
As too laborious apd severe a task. 810 

So man, the moth, is not afraid, it aeemst 
To span omnipotence, and measure might 
That knows no measqra, by the aoanty lulf^ 
And standard of his own, that is to^ay. 
And is not ere to-mprrgw's sun go down. .3l|i 

But how should i^at^er oceupy a charges 
Dull as it is, and satisfy a law 
So yast in its demands, unless impelled 
To ceaseless serriee by a ceoselsas force, 
And under pressure of some conscious cause ' S30 
The Lord of all, himself through all diffus*4, 

rSpslainsy uid is the Ufe of i^ that Uves> 
Nature is but a n^ise for an e|^»^ 
^ Whoee,q(|iise is God^ He it^i^A the secret ^xm^ 
By which the mighty process is maintain -d, 2^ 

Who deeps not, is net weary \ in whose sight 
Slow circling ages are as transient days ; 
Whose work is without labour ; whose designs 
No flaw deforms, no difficulty thwarts ; 
And whose beneficence no charge exhausts. 230 

Him blind antiquity profan'd, not setT'd, 
With self-taught rites, and under various names^ 
Female and male, Pomona,'Pales, Pan, 
And Flora, and VertTonnus ; peopling earth 
Witli tutelary goddesses and gods, 23^ 

That were not ; and commending as they would 



130 THE TASK. 

To each sumo province, garden, field, or groTO. 

Bat all are under one. Qne spirit— -His 

Who wore the platted thorns with bkeedmg broir»— 

Rules unirersal nature. Not a flower 240 

But shows some touch, in freckle, streak, or stahiy 

Of his unriraird penciL He inspires 

Their balmy odours, and imparts their hues, 

And bathes their eyes with nectar, and includes, 

In grains as countless as the seaside sands, 2lS 

The forms with iHiich he sprinkles all the eardi. 

Happy who walks with him ! whom vfhat he findt 

Of flarour or of scent in fruit or flower, 

Of what he views of beautiful or grand 

In nature, from the broad majestiek oak 950 

To the green blade that twinkles in the son. 

Prompts with remembrance of a present €rod 

His presence, who made all so &ir, perceiv*d. 

Makes all still fiiirer As with him no scene 

Is dreary, so with him all seasons please. 955 

Though winter had been r.one, had man been tmo 

And earth be punish'd for its tenant's sake, 

Yet not in vengeance ; as this smiling sky, 

So soon succeeding such an angry night, 

And these dissolving snows, and this dear stream 900 

Recovering fast its liquid musick, prove. 

Who, then, that has a mind welV strung andtuB d 
To contemplati(m, and within his reach 
A scene so friendly to his fav'rite.tasfc, 
Would waste attention at the checkef*d board. 961 
His host of wooden warriours to and fro 
Marching and countermarching, with an eye 
As fix'd as marble, with a forehead ridg*d 
And furrow'd into storms, and with a hand 
Trembling, as if eternity were hung 270 

In balance on his condiict of a pin ? 
Nor envies he aught more their idle sport, 
Who pant with application misapplied 
To trivial toys, and, pushing iv'ry balls 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 181 
AeioM a TdlTSt level, feel a joy < 831 

Akin to rapture, when the bauble finds 
ba deetin'd goalt of diffieult aoeeas. 
Nor deems he wiser him, who gives his noon 
T* mlsSy the maroer's plagaa Stom shop to ahof 
Wand'ring, and litt*ring with nnfidded «lks 981 

The polish'd coontor, and ippnmmg nene. 
Or promising with smiles to call again* 
Nor him, who by his vanitj sedne'd, 
And soothed into a dream, that he diseems 
The diffVence of a Gvido ftom adanb, tt5 

Freqneits the crowded an^ion : statisn'd thava 
As duly as the Langford of the show, 
With glass at eye, and catalogue ia hand. 
And tongue aecompliflh'd in the folsone cant 
Andpedantry that coxcombs' learn wkh case « SM 
Oft as the [Hrioe-deciding hammsr faHs, 
He notes it ia his book, then raps his bes, 
Swears tts a bargain, rails at his hard fida. 
Thai ha has let it paM— bat neTcr ludsl 

Here unmolested, through whatever sign 89B 

The sun proceeds, I wander. Neither mist^ 
Nor freeadng sky nor sultry, checking me^ 
Nor stranger intermeddling wkh wij joy. 
E*on in the sp^ng and play tisde of the yeai^ 
That calls the unwonted vUkg^^^ri^ 900 

With all her little ones, a sportive train. 
To gather kingcups in the yellow mead, 
And prink their hair with <Uisies, or to pick 
A cheap but wholesome salad from the brook>« 
Tl.ese shades are all my own. The tim'rous hare, 
Grown so famili&r with hex frequent Ifuest, 306 

Scarce, shons me ; and the stock-dQX9, unalarm'd. 
Sits cooing^ in the pinotree, nor sui^pends 
His long love ditty for my near approach. 
Drawn from lua refuge in some lonely olm, 316 

That a^jo or injury has hoIlowM deep, 
Where* on Lis bed of woul and tiintted leaves. 



I8t TH£ TASK. 

Sft has outslopt the wmtar, Tenturoi roxth, 

To frisk awbilo) wad hntk in the wmrm vuil, 

The iqairrel, flippaal, p«rt, and AiU o£fkfi M 

He sees me, and at onoev awiil «a a Idfd, 

Ascend* <*• tfeigiib'fhigibMoh ; tiiete wMrfttUvimll, 

kaA perks lua eaxsy aiiii«taMi^>a, and ^kmrnJofoA^ 

With all the prattoMsof iin^ld akuM, 

And anger insigaifieantftf fieiea^ SW 

The heart is hard in mtvfa, md unfit 
For human AliowAipiy is tteia|^TiOid 
Of sympathy, and therates deaid alik# 
To loya and Aseniship kolfa, tiitt ian^t pHtufii 
With sight of animals ffljpyiiig iifty Ml 

Nor feels th^ happiness angmeat Imoiht. 
The bo nn iia g feni, that darts acroaathsglwte 
*^^n nmn pimmrn fhmngh mnrn flafi fek tTiif h t tit 
And spirits bu^vanl with ettsesB vf glee } 
The horse as wanisli, and flkaost^sfleit, W 

That skims the Apacfisn* neadow vt fM vpmi, 
Then stops, add SMorts, and, thrawing high Mb hMn, 
Starts to the rakatittay race agafai; 
The very |^ thai gambol at high nooi^ 
The total herd reooivingArst Gsua one, 416 

That leads the doneo, a summons to he gay, 
Though wild their strai^ne Tagaries, and nnttduih 
Their efforts, yet resdv'd, with one consent, 
1*0 give such act and ntt'ranoe as they may 
To ecstasy too hig to be snpprees'd— 915 

These, and a thousand Images of tlun, 
With which kind Nature graces or^ scone, 
Where cruel man defeats not her design, 
Impart to the benevolent, who wish 
Ali that are capable of pleasure pleas'd, / 316 

A far siiperioiir happiness to theirs. 
The coinfort of a reasonable joy._^ 
,^— Wtfli Fcarco Iiad risn, obedient to his call 
Who forin'd him from the dost, his future grave, 
When ho \va« crown'd -am never kin^j was srinee. 350 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 13S 
Ood set th» diftdcm upon his bead, 
And angel oboiM sttend^J Wond'ring stood 
The new-made monarchTwhile before him pass'di 
All happy^ and all perlect in their kind. 
The creatnnsy •nmmon'd fl«m their Tariechf hamU, 
To see their sor'reigii, and oonftss his swaj. 950 

Vast was his emptre, abeohite hSa pow^, 
Or bounded onlj bj a law, whose fbree 
*Twas his sid»limest privilege to ibel 
And own — ^tbe law dT jrajversal kgre. 360 

He ml'd with meeiness, tfasjr obeyed wHh Joj ; 
9o cruel purpose Inrk'd within his heart, 
And no distrust of his intent in theirs. 
So Eden was a seeao of harmless sport, 
Where kindness on his part who rul'd the wbele, 865 
Begat a tranqail confidence in all, 
And fear as yet.was notyOior oanse fbr ftar. 
But ynmarr 'dall ; and the roT^t of man, 
That source of erils not exhausted yet. 
Was punished with revolt of his from him. 910 

Garden of God, how terrible the change 
Thy groves and lawns then witnessed! £v*ry heart, ' 
Each animal, of ev'ry name, conoeiv'd 
A jealousy and an instinctive fear. 
And, conscious of some danger, either fled 876 

Precipitate the loath'd abode of man, 
Or growPd defianoe in suoh angry sort, 
As taught him too to tremble in his tuna. 
Thus harmony and family accord 
Were driven from Paradise ; and in that hour 380 
The seeds of cruelty, that some have ewelTd 
To such gigantiek and enormous growth. 
Were sown in humaa nature's firuttful soil. 
Hence date the persecution and the pain, 
That man inflicts on all inferiour kinds, 38f 

Regardless of their plaints. To make him i 
To gratify the frenzy of his wrath, 
Or his base gluttony, are causes good 
Vol. II. 18 



134 THE TASK. 

And just in his account^ why bird and beast 

Should suffer torture, and the streams^be died 801 

With blood of their inhabitants impal'd. 

ESarth groans beneath the burden of a war 

Wag'd with defenceless innooeneei while he, 

Not satisfied to prey on all around. 

Adds tenfold bittemen to deiOh by pangs .395 

Needless, and first torments ere he doTours. 

Now h9ppiest_the7 that oeei^y the soenee 

The most remote from his abhorr'd resort, ^'^'^^'-^^ 

Whom once, as delegate of God on earth, 

They fear'd, and as his perfect image, loVd. 408 

The wilderness is theirs, with all its caves, 

Its hollow glens, its thickets, and its i^ams^ 

Unyisited by man. There they are free, 

And howl and roar as likes them, oiwontroli'd; 

Nor ark his leaTC to slumber or ta play. 406 

Wo to the tyrant, if he dare intrude 

Within the confines of their wiU domain : 

The lion tells him — ^I am monarch here— 

And if he spare him, spares him on the terms 

Of royal mercy, and through gen'rous scorn 410 

To rend a victim trembling at his foot. 

In measure, as by fbree of instinct drawn, 

Or by necessity oonstrain'd, they live 

Dependent upon man ; those in his fields. 

These at his crib, and some beneath his roof. 415 

They prove too ofVen at how dear a rate 

He selb protection-^Wilness at his foot 

The spaniel dying for some venial fkult 

Under dissection of the knotted scourge ; 

Witness the patient ox, with stripes and yells 490 

Driv'n to the slaughter, goaded, as he runs, 

To madness ; while the savage at his heels 

Laughs at the frantick sufferer's fury, spent 

Upon the guiltless passenger o'erthrown. 

Ho too is witness, noblest of the train 435 

Tliat wait on man. the flight-nerforming h^^ • 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 138 
Willi unsuspecting readiness he takes 
His murd'rer on,ius back, and, puah'd all day 
With bleeding sides and flanks that heare for Hfoi 
To the far distant goal arrives and dies. 49D 

So little mercy shows who needs so much ! 
Does law, so jealous in the cause of man, 
Denounce no doom on the delinquent ? None. 
He lives and o'er his brimming beaker boasts 
(As if barbarity were high desert,) 439 

Th' inglorious feat, and clamorous in praise 
Of the poor brute, seems wkeiy to suppose 
The honours of his matchless h<»r8e his own. 
But many^acrime, deem'd innocent on earth, 
Is register*4iaJIeay]n ; and these no doubt, 440 

Have each thoir record, with a curse annex'd. 
Man may dismiss compassion from his heart. 
But God will never. When he eharg'd the Jew • 
T' assist his foe's down-fallen beast to rise ; 
And whon the bush-exploring boy, that seii'd 445 
The young, to let the parent bird go free ; 
Prov'd he not plainly, that his meaner worki 
Are yet liis care, and have an int'rest all, 
All, in the universal Father's love? 
On Noah, and in him on all mankind, 460 

The charter was conferr'd by which we hold 
The flesh of animals in foe, and claim 
O'er all we feed on pow'r of life and death. 
But read the instrument, and mark it well : 
Th' oppression of a tyrannous control 456 

Can find no warrant there. Feed then, and yield, 
Thanks for thy food. Cormvor^iuu through sin, 
Feed onJLbe slain, but spare the living brute ? • 

The Governor of all, himself to all 
So bountiful, in whose attentive ear 460 

The ui^edg'd ravon and tiie lion's whelp 
Plead not iu vain for pity on the pangs 
Of hunger unassuag'd, has interpos'd, 
Kot seldom, lus avengiag^fttm^ to smite 



136 THE TASK- 

Th' injurious trampler upon Nature's law, 465 

That claims forbearance even for a brute. 

He hates the hardness of a Bftlaam|s heait ; 

And, prophet as he was, he might not strike 

The blameless animal, without rebuke, 

On which he rode. Her opportune o£^nce 470 

Sav'd him, or the unrelenting seer had died. 

He sees that human equity is slack 

To interfere, though in so just a cause : 

And makes the task his own. Inspiring dundb 

And helpless victims with a sense so keen 475 

Of injury, with such knowledge ef their strength 

And such sagacity to take revenge, 

That oft the beast has seem*d to judgv the man. 

An ancient, not a legendary tale, 

By one of sound intelligence rehears'd, 480 

(If such who plead for Providence hiay seem 

In modem eyes,) shall make the doctrine clear. 

Where England, stretched towards the setting suii| 
Narrow and bng, o'erlooks the western wave, 
Dwelt young Misagathus ; a scomer he 485 

Of God and goodness, atheist in ostent^ , 

Vicious in act, in temper savage-fierce. 
He joumey'd : and his chance was, as fae went, 
To join a travller, of far different note, 
Evander, fam'd for piety, for years 490 

Deserving h6nour, bvA for wisdom more. 
Fame had not left the venerable man 
A stranger to the manners of the youth, 
Whose face, too, was familiar to his view. 
Tlieir way was on the margin of the land, 496 

O'er the green summit of the rocks, whose base 
Beats back the -roaring surge, scarce heard so high. 
The charity that warm'd his heart, was mov*d 
At Sight of the man-monster. With a smite ' 
Gentle and affable, and full of grace, 500 

As fearful of offending whom he wish'd 
Much to pe^jsuade, be plied his ear with truths 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 137 
Not Iiarldly thundered forth, or rudely prefts'd, 
But, like his purpose, gracious, kind, and sweet 
" And dost thou dream," th* impenetrable man 505 
Exclaim'd, *^ that, me the lullabies of age, 
And fantasies of dotards, sueh as thou. 
Can cheat, or move a moment's fear in me ? 
Mark now the proof I give thee, that the brave 
Need no sucir aids as superstition lends 510 

" To steel their hearts against the dread of death.* 
He spoke, and to the precipice at hand 
Pushed with a roadman's fury. Fancy shrinks. 
And the blood thrills and curdles at the thought' 
Of such a gulf as he design'd his grave. 515 

But though the felon on his back could dare 
The dreadful leap, more rational, his steed 
Declin'd the death, and wheeling swiftly round. 
Or ere his hoof had press'd the crumbling verge, 
Baffled his rider, sar'd against his will. 520 

The frenzy of the brain may be redress'd 
By med'cine well applied, but without grace 
The heart's insanity admits no cure. 
Enrag'd the more, by what might have reformed 
His horrible intent, again he sought 525 

Destruction, with a zeal to be deBtroyM, 
With sounding whip, and rowels died in blood, 
But still in vain. Tim Providence that meant 
A longer date to the far nobler beast, 
Spar'd yet again th' ignobler for his sake. 590 

And nowy his prowess proy'd, and his sincere 
Incurable obduracy evinc'd, 

His rage grew cool, and, pleas'd x>erhaps t' have eam'd 
So cheaply, the renown of that attempt, 
With looks of some complacence he resum'd 535 

His road, deriding much the blank amaze 
Of godd Evander, still where he was left 
Fix'd motionless, and petrified with dread. 
So on they far'd. Discourse on other themes 
Ensuing seem'd t' obliterate the past ; 540 

12* 



38 THE TASK. 

And tamer fer ibr so mucii fory showa, 
(As is tke couxso of rash and (toty men,) 
The rude compamoa smird) as if traiisibrm'd— 
But 'twas a transient calm. A stena was near 
An unsuspected storm. His hour was come. d45 

The impious challenger of Pow'r divme 
Was now to learn, tiiat Heaven, tiu^^ugh Aow to vtat]^ 
Is never with impunity d^ed. 
His horse, as he had caught his mastetVi moodi 
' Snorting, and starting into sudden rage, £60 

Unlndden, and not bow to be c<Nitr^'d, 
Rush'd to the cliff, aad, having reach'd it, Mood. 
At once the shcKsk unseated him: be flew 
Sheer o'er the craggy baarrier ; and immersed 
Deep in the flood, finind, when he sought it not^ 555 
The death he had desenr'd, and died alone. 
So God wrought douUe justice ; made the fool 
The victim of his own tremendous choice, 
And taught a brute the way to safe 'revenge. . 

I would not onter on my list of friends, 560 

(Though grao'd,with polish'd manners and fino sense, 
Tet wanting^ sensibility,) the man 
W1k> needlessly sets foot upon a wonn« 
An inadvertent step may crush the snail 
That crawla at ev'ning in the publick path ; * S65 
But he that has humanity, forewarned, 
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 
The creeping vermin, loathsome to Che sight, 
And charg'd p^haps with venom, that intrudef, 
A visitor unwelcome, into scenes _ * S99 

Sacred to neatness and repose, th* alcove. 
The chamber, or refectory, may die : 
A necessary act incurs no blame. 
Not so when, held within their proper bounds, 
And guiltless of offence, they range the air, 575 

Or take their pastime in the spacious field : 
There they are privileg'd ; and he that hunts 
Of harms them thoro is guilty of a wrong. 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 19 
Disturbs the ecoaomj of Nature's realm, 
Who, when she formed, designed them an abode. 580 
The sum is this : If man's convenience, healthy 
Or safety, interfere, his n^t* "id claims 
ArejAramovnt^ and must extinguish theirs. 
Else they are all — the meanest things that are-* 
As free to live, and to ei^oy that life, 585 

As God was free to form them at the first. 
Who in his sovereign wisdom made them alL 
Te, therefore, who love mercy, teach your sons 
To lore it too. The epnng time of our years 
Is soon dishonoured ajMl defil'd in most 690 

By budding ills, that ask a prudent hand 
To check them. But, alas 1 none sooner shoots, 
If unrestrained, into luxuriant growth. 
Than cruelt]^, most devlish of th em alL 
Mercy to him that shows it, is the rule 59$ 

And righteous limitation pf its act. 
By which Heav-n moves is pard'niag guilty man ; 
And he that shows none, being ripe in years, 
And conscious of the outrage he commits, 
Shall seek it, and not find it, in his turn. 600 

Dia tingui sh'd much by r easoiu and still mora 
By our capacity of grace divine. 
From creatures, that exist but fiir our sake, 
Which having serv'd us, perish, wejjsJiyld 
Acco^ntahlej and God some future day 005 

Win reckon with us roundly for th' abuse 
Of what he deems no mean nor trivial trust 
Superiour as we are, they yet depend 
Not more on human help than we on theirs. 
Their streiigth, or speed, or vigilance, were giv'n 610 
In aid of our defects. In some are found 
Such teachable and apprehensive parts. 
That man's attaixmients in his own concerns, 
Match'd with th' expertness of the brutes in theirs, 
Are ofltimos vanquished and thrown &r behind. €15 
Some show that nice sagacity of stnolU 



<40 TUf: TASK 

And read with such discernment, in the poit 

And figure of the man, hiB secret aim. 

That oft we oire our safety to a skill 

We could not teach, and must despair to learn. OJW 

But learn wo mi^jht, if not too proud to stoop 

To quadruped instructers many a good 

And useful quality, and virtue too, 

R&Foly exemplified among ourselves. 

Attachment never to be wean'd, or changM 625 

By any change of fortune : proof alfte 

Against tmkindness, absence, and neglect; 

Fidelity, that neither bribe nor threat 

Can move or warp ; and gratitude for small 

W trivial favours, lasting as the life, 690 

nd glist'ning even in the dying eye. 
Man praises man. Desert in arts or arms 
Wins publick honour ; and ten thousand sit 
Patiently present at a sacredrsong, / 

Commemoration mad ; content to hear 635 

(O wonderfW effect of musick's power !) 
Messiah's eulogy for Hmidel's sake ! 
But less, methinks, than sacnlege might serve-* 
(For, was it less, what heathen would have dtr*d 
To strip Jove's statue of his oaken wreath, 610 

And hang it up in honour of a man f) 
Much less might serve, when aH that we design 
Is but to gratify an itching ear. 
And give the day to a musician's praise. 
Remember Handel ? Who, that was not bom 64$ 
Deaf as the dead to harmony, forgets, * 
Or can, the more than Homer of his age ? 
Yen — ^we remember him ; and while we pnuse 
A talent so divine, remember too 
That His most holy book from whom it came, 65C 
Was never meant, was never us'd before, 
To buckram out the mem'ry of a man. 
But hush ! — ^the Muse perhaps is too severe 
And with a gravity beyond the size 



THE WINTEE WALK Al NOON. 141 
And measure of th' offence, rebnkM a deed 6S5 

Less impious than absurd, and owing more 
To waAt of judgment than to wrong design 
So in the diapel of old Ely House, 
When wand'ring Charles, who meant to be the third« 
Had fled from William, and the news was fresh, GOO 
The mmple clerk, but loyal, did announce. 
And eke did roar right merrily, two staves, 
Sung to the praise and glory of Sji% Qeerge! 
— ^Man praises man: and G arrick's roem*ry sezty 
When time hath somewhat mellow'd it, and mad* €GS 
The idol of our worship while he li^'d 
The God of our idolatry once more, 
filiall haye.its altar ; and the world riiall ge 
In pilgrimage to bow before his shrine. 
The theatre too small, shall suffocate 6W 

Its squeex'd contents, and more than it adnkiu 
Shall sigh at their exclusion, and return 
fJngratified ; for there some noble lord 
Shall stuff his shoulders with King Richard's bonci^ 
Or wrap himself in Hamlet's inky cloak, 63S 

And strut, and storm, and straddle, stamp, and sCftrti 
To show the world how Garrick did not act. 
For Garrick was a worshipper himself; 
He drew the liturgy, and firom'd the iite« 
And solemn ceremonial of the day, 980 

And call'd the world to worship on the banks 
Of Avon, fam'd in song. Ah, ploasant proof 
That piety has still in human hearts 
Some place, a/ipark or two not yet eztineL 
The mulb'rry tree was hung with blooming wrwClM ; 
The mulb'rry tree stood centre of the dance ; 686 
The mulb'rry tree was hymn'd with dulcet affs; 
And from his touchwood trunk the mulb'riy treo 
Supplied such relicks as devotion holds 
Still sacred, and preserves with pious cam. 606 

So 'twas a hallow'd time : decorum reign'd. 
And mirth without offence. No few retum'd. 



142 THE TASK. 

Doubtless, much edified, and all refreshU 

— Man praise§ man. The rabble all aliye 

From tippling benches, cellars, stalls, and styes, 695 

Swarm in the streets. The stat esman of the day, 

A pompous and slow-moving pageant, comes. 

Siune shout him, and some hang upon his car, 

To gaze in 's eyes, and bless him. Maidens wa¥B 

Thleir kerchiefs, and old women weep for joy : 700 

While others, not so satisfied, unhorse 

The gilded equipage, and turning loose 

His steeds, usurp a place they well deserve. 

Why.' what has charm'd them? Hath he eared the 

sUte? 
No. Doth he purpose its salvation ? No. . 706 

Knchanting novelty, that moon at full, 
That finds out ev'ry crevice of the head 
That is not sound, and perfect, hath in theirs 
Wrought this disturbance. But the wane i^ nemr^ 
And his own cattle must suffice him soon. 71§ 

Thus idly do we waste the breath of praise, 
And dedicate a tribute, in its use 
And just direction sacred, to a thing 
Doomed to the dust, or lodg'd already there. 
Encomium in old time was poet's work ; 71$ 

But poets, having, lavishly long since 
Exhausted all materials of the art. 
The task now fidls into the publick hand ; 
And I contented with an l^umbler t hemg , 
Have pbur'd my stream of panegyrick down 721 

The vale,of N»ture» where it creeps and wim3s 
Among her lovely works with a secure 
And unambitious course, reflecting clear. 
If not the virtues, yet the worth of brutes. 
And I am recompensed, and deem the toils 72S 

Of poetry not lost, if verse of mine 
May stand between an animal and wo. 
And teach one tyrant pity for his drudge. 
The groans of Nature in this nether worid,- 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 148 
Which heav'n has hoard for ages, have an end. 730 
Foretol4 by prophets, and bj poets song, 
Whose fire was kindled at the prophets' lamp ; 
The time of rest, the promised sabbath, comes 
Six thousand years of sorrow have well ni^ 
Fulfill'd their tardy and disastrous course 735 

Oyer a sinful world ; and what remains 
Of this tempestuous state of human things 
fs merely as the working of a sea 
Before a calm that rocks itself to rest ; 
For He, whose car the winds are, and the clouds 740 
The dust that waits upon his sultry march, 
When sin hath mov'd him, and his wrath is hot, 
Shall visit earth in mercy ; shall descend 
Propitious in his chariot pav*d with love ; 
And what his storms have blasted and defac'd 745 
For man's revolt, shall with a smile repair. 

Sweet is the harp of prophecy ; too sweet 
Not to be wrong *d by a mere mortal touch ; 
Nor can the wonders it records be sung 
To meaner musick, and not suffer loss. ' 750 

But when a poet, or when one like me, 
Happy to rove among poetick flow'rs. 
Though poor in skill to rear them, lights at last 
On some fair theme, some theme divinely fair, 
Such is the impulse and the spur he feels, 755 

To give it praise proportion'd to its worth. 
That not^t* attempt it> arduous as he deems 
The labou)r, wore a task more arduous still. 

O scenes surpaissung fable, and yet true, 
Scenes of accomplished bliss ! which who can see, 790 
Though but in distant prospect, and not feel 
His soul refreshed with foretaste of the joy ? 
Rivers of gladness water all the earth, 
And clothe all climes with beauty ; the reproach 
Of barrenness is past. "TThe fruitful field 765 

Laughs with abundance ; and the land, once lean. 



144 THE TASK. 

Or fertile oiAy m its own disgraeey 
Exults to see iU thistlj ewrte repeal'4. 
The yarioos'teasons woven into one, 
. And that one season an eternal springs 770 

The garden iears no blight, eiid needs no fimoe, 
Fbr there is nono io eoret, all Vf fsdL 
The lion, and the libbard, and the bear, 
GnpEe with the fearless floeks ; all bai^ i^ noon 
Together, or all gambol in the shada f?5 

Of the same grove, and drink one eomsion stream; 
Antipathies are none. No foe to man 
Larks in the serpent now ; the mother sees, 
And smiles to see, her infant's plajinl hand 
Strbtch'd forth to dally with the erested worm, 760 
To stroke his azure neek, <Nr to reeeiye 
The lambent homage of hij arrowy tongue. 
All creatures worship man, and all mankind 
One Lord, one Father* Erroor has no place ; 
That creeping pestilence is drir'n away ; 786 

The breathe of Ueav'n has chas'd it. In the heari 
No passion touches a discordant string. 
But all is harmony and love. Disease 
Is not : the pure and uncontaminate blood 
Holds Its doe course, nor fears the frost of aga 7D0 
One song employs all nations ; and all cry, 
** Worthy the Lanb, for he was riain for tis V* 
The dwellers in the vales and on the rooks 
Shout to each other, and the mountain ti^ 
From distant mountains catch the flying joy, 796 

Till, nation after nation taught the strain, 
Earth rolls the rapturous hosanna round. 
Behold the measure of the promise fiU'd ; 
See Salem built, the laixmr of a God ! 
Bright as a sun the sacred city shines ; 800 

All kingdoms and all princes of the earth 
Flock to that light ; the glory t>f all lands 
Flows into her ; unbounded is her joy, 



p 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. U$ 
And endless her increase. Thy rams ar^ Umto 
Nebaioth, and the flocks of Kedar there ;** QOf^ 

Tlie looms of Ormns, and the minea of lady 
And Saba's ^i6y groyes pay tribotd thera* 
Praise is jni^l her gates ; upon her vi^ 
And in her streats, aad in her spaoioua ooilrt% 
. Is heard salvatioa. Eastern Java there 9U) 

Kneels with the native of the fiirthest west$ 
And iEthiopia spreads abroad the faaxMl> 
And worships. Her report has traveU'd forlh 
Into all lands. From ev'ry elime tJiey oonM 
To see thy beauty, and to share thy joy» . S15 

O Sion ! an assembly such as Earth 
Saw never, such as Heav'n stoops down to aee. 

Thus heav'nward all things tend. For aU weift«SM6 
Perfect, and all must be at length restore* 
So God has greatly purposed ', who would elm 890 
In his dishonour 'd works himself enduro 
Dishonour, and be wrong'd witlmut redffesn 
Haste, then, and wheel away a shatter'd worU^ 
Tc slow-revolvmg seasons 1 we would aee 
(A sight to which our eyes are strangers yet) S2$ 
A world, that doee not dread and hateliis hwra, 
And snfl^r for itA crime ; would learn hew fiur 
The creature is, that Gqd proBonnoea |foed ; 
How pleasant in itself what {leases him. 
Here ev'ry drop of honey hides a sting : 690 

Worms wind themselves into our sweetest flow'fs 
And e'en thd joy, that haply some poor heart 
Derives from Heav'n, pure as the foimtaui is, 
Is sullied in the stream, taking a taint 
From touch of human Ups, at best impovs. B35 

O for a iKorld in principle as clia8t0 
As this is gross and selfish ! over whioh 

* Nebaioth and Kedar/4he mm of Ishmael, and orMgeaitafi 

of the Arabs in the prophelick Scripture here alluaed to, may 
be reasono(bly considered as reprcse&latives of the Gentnes at 
large. 
Vol. II. 13 



I4§ THE TASK. 

Ciutoin Midi prejudice shall bear no sway, 
Thai govern all things here, should'ring aside 
The meek and modest Truth, and forcing her 840 
To seek a refuge fhim the tongue of Strife 
In nooks obseore, fkr from the ways of men ; 
Where l^olence shaO never lift the sword, 
Kar Canning justify the proud man*s wrong, 
Leaving the poor no remedy but tears : 845 

Where he that ffils an office, shall esteem 
Th* occasion it presents of doing good 
More than the perquisita : where Law shall speak 
Seldom, and never but as Wisdom prompts 
And Efpiity ; not jealous more to guard 850 

A worthleM form than to decide aright: 
f Where Fashion shall not sanctify abuse. 
Nor smooth Good-breeding (supplemental grace) 
With lean performance ape the work of Love I 

Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, 856 
Receive yet one, the crown.4>LAlUhej«Tt[^, 
Thou wlio alone art worthy ! It was thine 
By ancient covenant, ere Nature's birth ; 
Ajid thou hast made it thine by purchase since ; 
And o*erp«id its value with thy blood. 800 

Thy sdbts proclaim thee king ; and in their hearts 
Thy title is engraven with a pen 
Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love..^ 
Thy saints proclaim thee king ; and thy delay 
Gives eeurage to their foes, who, could they sea 866 
The dawn of thy last advent, long desir'd, 
Would creep into the bowels of the hills, 
And flee fbr safety to the fiUling rocks. ^ 
The very spirit of the world is tir'd "^ 
>f its own taunting question, ask'd so long, 870 

" Where b the promise of your Lord's ^proach ?** 
The infidel has shot his bolts away, 
Tfll his exhausted quiver yielding none, 
He gleans the blunted sliafts, that have recoil'^, 
And aims them at the sliield of Truth again. 875 



THE WINTER WALE AT NOON. Uf7 
The veil u rent, rent top by priestly handi, 
Th«t hicles divinity from mortal eyee ; 
And all the mysteries to faith propoa'd, 
Insnlted and traduc'd are cast aside, 
As uselesQ} to the moles and to the bats. 880 

They now are deemed the faithfol, and are pnda'di 
Who, constant only in rejecting Thee, 
Deny thy Godhead with a martyr's zeal. 
And quit their office for their erroor's saJsa. 
Blind and in love with darkness ! yet e'ea thaw BBS 
Worthy, compared with sycophants, who |uim 
Thy name adorlnif, and then preach tb#e man; 
Sa fares thy church. But how thy choreh umj §m 
The world takes little thought. Who wiUmaypnadi, 
And what they wilL All pastors are alike 600 % 

To wand'ring sheep, resolv'd to follow none. 
T wo god s divide them all — FlfUfff'T and G^ ; 
For these they live, they sacrifice to these. 
And in their service wage perpetual war 8M 

With Conscience and with Thee. Lust in th«ir luaili^ 
And mischief in their hands, they roam the Mftk 
To prey upon each other ; stubborn, fieBoe^ 
High-minded, foaming out their own di^^nusa. 
Thy pr<^het8 speak of such ; and notiqg down 
The Matures of the last degen'rate timei^ 009 

Exhibit every lineament of these. 
Come, then, and, added to thy many efowa% 
Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest, 
Due to thy last and most effectual w<»k, 
Thy word fulfill'd,.the conquest of a world ! . 9QB 

He is the happyjoan, whose life e*en now 
Shows som^hat of that happio^iiikio coqb^ » 
Who, doom'd to an obscure but tranquil stata, 
Is pleased with it, and, w6re he free to, choose, 
Would make his fate his choice ; whom peaoo,|]it firnil 
Of virtue, and whom virtue, firuit of &ith, W 

Prepare for happiness ) bespeak him one 
Content indeed to sojourn while he must <« 



M8 THE TASK. 

Hclow iho nk'ieBj but having there his lutno. 

The world o'erlooks him in her busy search 915 

Of objects more illustrious in her yiew j 

And occupied as earnestly as she, 

Though more sublimely, he overlooks the World. 

She scorns his pleasures, for sRe knows them not 5 

Uo seeks not hers, ibr he has proy'd them yain. 920 

lie cannot skim the ground'like summer birds 

Pursuing gilded flies ; and such he deems 

ller hoflouri, her emoluments, her jojrs. 

Therefore in contemplation is his bliss. 

Whose pow^r ts such, that whom she lifts from earth 

She mi^es familiar with a Heay*n unseen, 926 

And shows him glories 3ret to be revealed. 

Not slothful he, though seeming unemplojred, 

And.censur'd'ofl'as useless. StiUest stroama 

OH water fairest meadows, and the bird 939 

That flutters least Is longest on the wing. 

Atdi him, indeed, what trophies he has rais*d, 

Or whaX achievements of immortal fame 

He por^dfl, ttn4 he shall answer — None. . 

His warfare is within. There, nnfatiguM, 935 

His fervent ^irit labours. There he fights 

And there obtains fresh triumphs o*er himself 

And noyer-with*ring wreaths, compared with which, 

The laurels that a Cttesa reaps are weeds. 

Perhaps the seH^approving, haughty world, 940 

That as she sweeps him with her whistling idlkt 

Scarce deigns to iiotice him, or if she see, 

Deems him a cipher in the works of God, 

Receives advantage from, his noiseless hours, 

Of which she little dreams. Perhaps shAwes UI5 

Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring 

And plenteous harvest, to the pray^r^be makes. 

When, Isaac like, the solitary saint 

tTalks forth to meditate at eventide. 

And think on her wh^ thinks not for herself. 960 

Forgive him, then, thou bustler in concerns 



THE WINTER WALK AT NOON. 149 
Of little worth, tn idler in the best, 
If, muthor of no mischief fmd lome good. 
He seeks his proper happiness by means 
That may advance^ but cannot hinder, thine. MS 

' Nor, thoujifh he tread the secret path of life. 
Engage no notice, and enjoy mach ease, 
Aoeount him an encnmbrance on the state» 
Receiving benefits, and rendering none. 
His sphere, though humble, if that homble inhere 
Shine with his fair example ; and though small 961 
His influence, if that inHiience all be spent 
In sootluiig.JQjZfiW» and in quenching strife. 
In aiding helpless indigence in works 
From which at least a grateful few derive 965 

Some taste of comfort in a world of wo ; 
Then let the supercilious great confess 
He serves his country, recompenses well 
The state beneath the shadow of whose vine 
He sits secure, and in the scale of life 970 

Holds QQ JgnsUe, though a slighted, place. 
The man, whose virtues are moI^ felt than siiD| 
Must drop indeed the hope of publick praisa; 
But he may boast, what few that win it can, 
That if his country stand not by his skill, 975 

At least his follies have not wrought her felL 
Polite Refinement ofiers him in vain 
Her golden tube, through which a sensual WoiU 
Draws gross impurity, and likes it well. 
The neat conveyance hiding all the ofifenea. 980 

Not that he peevishly rejects a mode, 

, Because that World adopU it. If it bear 
The stamp aad clear in^ression of good sense, 
AndJlM not costly more than of true worth 
He puts it on, and fer decorum sake 98«^ 

Can wear it e'en as gracefully as she. 

• Bhe judges of refinement by the eye } 
He, by the test of conscience, and a heart 
Not soon deceiv'd ; aware, that what Is base 
13 • 



150 Tin-: TASK. 

No polish can make stcrlsii^ ; and that vice, 99t 

Though well pcrfumM and elegantly dre88'd> 

Lil«e an unburied carcass trick 'd witli flcw*rs, 

Is but a garnish'd nuisance, fitter far 

For cleanly riddance than for lair atthre.. 

So life glides smoothly and by stealth away, 995 

More golden than that ago of fabled ^oM 

Renown'd in ancient song ; not vex'd with care 

Or stain'd with guilt, beneficent, approv'd 

Of God and man, and peaceful in Its end. 

So glide my life away ! and so at last, ICO© 

My shafe of duties decently fulfill'd, 

May some disease, not tardy to perform 

Its destin'd office, yet with gentle stroke, 

Dismiss me weary to a safe retreat, 

Beneath the turf that I have often trod. 1005 

It shall not griere me then, that once, when ealTcl 

To dress a Sofa with the flow'rs of verse, 

I play*d awhile, obedient to the fiiir, 

With that light Task ; but soon, to please her more, 

Whom flowers alone •! knew would little please, 1010 

Let fall th* nnfinlsh'd wreath, and rov*d for fruit ; 

Rov'd far, and gather'd much ; sottie harsh, 'tis true, 

Pick'd from the thorn? and briars of reprobf, 

But wholesome, well digested ; gratefbi sonse 

To palates that can taste immortal trotli ; 1015 

Insiplii else, and sure to be despis*d. 

But*all is in His hand whose prai6e I seek. 

In vain the poet sings, and the World heanr, 

If he regard not, though divine the theme. 

'Tis not in artfiil measures, in the chime ' IWA 

And idle tinliling of a minstrel's lyre, 

To charm His ear whose eye is on the heiurt, 

Whose frown can disappoint th6 prdndesC iftrain, 

Whose approbation — ^prosper even mine. 



( 151 ) 

EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESa 



DEAR JOSEPH— five end twenty yean afo^ 
Alas, how time escapes ! 'tis even so — 
With frequent intereoorse, and always sweety 
And always friendly, we were wont to cheat 
A tedious hour-*-and now we never meet i 
As some grave gentleman in Terence says, 
('Twas therefore much the same in ancient days^) 
Good lack, we know not what to-morrow brings*— 
Strange fluctuation of all human things ! 
True. Changes will befall, and friends may part 
But distance only cannot change the heart ; 
And, wliere I call'd to prove th' .assertion true, 
One proof should serve— a reference to you. 

Whence comes it, then, that in the vane of liib| 
. Though nothing have occurred to kindle strife, 
We find the friends we fancied' we had won. 
Though num*roas once, reduo'd to few or non* ? 
Can gold grow worthless, that has stoed the Umeikl 
No ; gold they seem'd, but they were never muh. 

Horatio's servant onee, with bow and cringe, 
Swinging the parlour door upon its hinge, 
Dreading a negative, and overaw'd 
Lest he sliouki trespass, begg*d to go abroad. 
Go, fellow^— whither i>— turning short abovii— 
' Nay — Sti»y at home — ^you're always going out. 
Tis but a step, sir, just at the street's end. — 
For what ? — An please you, sir, to see a firiend.— 
A fiiend ! Horatio cried, and seem'd to start — 
Yea, marry shalt thou, and with all my heart" 



««*= 



152 EPISTLE TO JOSEPH HILL, ESQ. 
And fetch my cloak ; for, though the night be raw, 
T'll lee him too — ^the firbt I ever saw. 

I knew the man, and knew hb nature mild. 
And was his plaything often when a child ; 
Bat somewhat at that moment pinch'd him closei 
Else ho was seldom bitter or morose. 
Perhaps his confidence just then betrayed, 
His grief might prompt him with the speech he madt 
Perhaps 'twas mere good humour gave It birth. 
The harmless play of pleasantry and mirth. 
However it was, his language, in my mind 
Bespoke at least a man that knew mankind. 

But not to moralize too much, and strain, 
To prove an evil, of whkh all complain, 
(I hate long arguments verbosely spun,) 
One story more, dear Hill, and I have done. 
Once on a time, an emperor, a wise man. 
No matter where, in China or Japan, 
Decreed, that whosoever should ofiend 
Against the well-known duties of a firiand. 
Convicted once, should ever after wear j^ 

But half a coat, and show his bosom bare. 
The ponidmient importing this, no doubt. 
That all was naught within, and all found out 

O happy Britain ! we have not to fear 
Such hard and arbitrary measure here ; 
Else^ could a law like that which I relate, 
Once have the sanction of our triple state, 
Som? few, that I have known in days of old. 
Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold ; 
While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow 
Might traverse England safely to and firo, 
An honest man, close buttoned to the chin. 
Broadcloth without, and a warm heart within. 



, tl-"f^ 



TIROCINIUM: 



•OB, 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLa 



Kt^oAaiw in raiSsias op^n rpoi^ti PLATO. 

kfx^ iroXtTuas avathts vtwf rpofa..,..DiOG. IAErt. 




TO THJB 

REV. WILLIAM CAWTHORNE UNWIN, 

miCTOR OF STOCK IV XSSEly 
THE TUTOR OF HIS TWO SOlffl^ 

THE FOLLOWING 

miCOMMKHDIHO PBITATZ TUITION, IH PBXPBBSVCB 

T(^AH EDUCATION AT SCHOOL, 

IS INSCRIBSDi 

BT HIS AFFECTIOHATX FmSKD| • 

WILLIAM COWPER 






TIROCINIUM. 



IT if not from his form, in which we tnuse 
Strength join'd wkh beauty, difnlty with griee, 
That man, the master of this globe, derives 
His right of empire over all that lives. 
That form, indeed, th* associate of a mmd 

Vast in its pow'rs, ethereal in its kind— 
That fonn, the labour of almighty skill, 
Fram'd for the service of a freebom Idll, 
Asserts prsoedenoe, and bespeaks control. 
Bat borrows all its grandeur frem the soul. 10 

Here is the state, the splendour, and the throne, 
An intellectual kingdom, all bar own. 
For her the,Mem'ry fills her am^ page 
With truths pour'd down from ev'ry distant sge * 
For her amasses an unbounded store, 15 

The wisdom of grest ngtionsi now no more ; 
Though laden, not encumber'd with her spoil ; 
Laborious, yet unconeeiDus of h«r toil ; 
When copiously supplied, then most enlarg*d, 
Still to be fed, and not to be sureharg'd. 90 

For her the Fancy, roving uneonfin'd, 
The present muse of ev'ry pensive mind. 
Works magick wonders, adds a brighter hue 
To Nature's scenes than Nature ever knew. 
At her command winds rise, and waters roar, 95 

Again she lays them slumbering on the shore ; 



156 TIROCINIUM : OR, 

With flow'r and fruit the wilderness supplies, 

Or bids the rocks in ruder pomp arise. 

For her the Judgment, umpire in the strifoi 

That Grace and Nature have to wage through life, 30 

Quick-sighted arbiter of good and ill, 

Appointed sage preceptor to the will, 

Condemns, approves, and with a faithful voice 

Guides tlio decisiicu of a doubtful choice. 

Why did the fiat of a God give birth 35 

To yon fair Sun, and his atUndant Earth ? 
And when, descending, he resigns the skies, 
Why takes the gentler Moon her turn to rise. 
Whom Oeean feels through ail his coiiDUeas waves, 
And owns her pow*! on ev'ry shore k9 kvesif 4B 

Why do the seasons still enrich the year, 
Fruitful and young as in their first career ? 
Spring hangs her infant Uossobib on the trees, 
Rock'd in the cradle of the western breexe ; 
Summer in haste the thriving oharge reoeivea 45 
Beneath the shade of her expanded leaves, 
Till Autumn'ii fiercer heats and plenteous dewa 
Die them at last in all their glowing hues ■ 
Twere wild profusion all, and bootless waste, 
Pow'r misemployed, mimificence misplae'd, 50 

Had not its author difgnified the plap. 
And crown*d it with the majesty ot tOBSL 
Thus form'd, thuaplae'd, intelligent, and taught, 
Look where he will, the wonders Ged has ^vlrettgftif, 
The wildest scomer of his Makers laws 69 

Finds in a sober mammit time to pause^ 
To press th* important qnestigo oi| |iis keart, 
*« Why form'd at all, and wiMFefere as thou art?" 
If man be what he ssems, this hoor a slave, 
The next mere dust and ashes in the grave | 01 

Endu'd with reason only to desery 
liis crimes and follies with an aching eye •/ 
With passions, just that he may prove, with pain. 
The force ho spends agains*^ their fury vain ; 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. ICT 

And if, soon after having burn'd, by tarns, 65 

With ef*ry lust with which frail Nature bonuu 
His being end where death desoWes the bond. 
The tomb take all, and all be blank beyond ; 
Then he of all that Nature has brought forth. 
Stands self-impeach'd the creature of least worth, 7^ 
And useless while he lives and when he dies, 
Briogs into doubt tho wisdom of the skies. 

Triiths, that the learn'd pursue with eager thought^ 
Are not important always 9s dear bought. 
Proving at last, though told in pompons strains, 75 
A childish waste of philosophick pains ; . 
Bat troths, on which depends our main concern, 
That 'tis our shame and mis'ry not to learn, 
Shine by the side of ev'ry path we tread 
With such a lustre, he that runs may read. ' 80 

.'Tis true, that if to trifle life away 
Down to the sunset of their latest day, 
Then perish on futurity's. wide shore, 
Liko fleeting exhalations,*fbund no more, 
Were all that Heav'n required of human kind, 85 

And all the plan their destiny designed. 
What nonie could rev*rence all might justly blfune, 
And man would breathe but for his Maker's shame. 
But reason heard, and nature well perns'd, 
Al once tho dreaming mind is disabus'd. 90 

If all we find possessing earth, sea, air. 
Reflect his attributes who i^c*d them tiieire, 
Fulfil the purpose, and appear designed 
Proo& of the wisdom of the all-seeiBg lilind, 
Tis plain the creature, whom he chose t' iuTest 95 
With Idngship and dominion o'er the rest, 
Reeeiy'd his noUer nature, and was Made 
Fit for the pow'r in which he stands array'd ; 
That first, or last, hereafter, if not here. 
He too might make his author's wisdom olear, 100 
Praise him on earth, or, obstinately dumb> 
Suffer his justice in a world to come. 

Vol. H. 14 



I 



158 TIROCINIUM : OR, 

This once believed, 'twere logick misappliedi 
To prove a consequence by none denied, 
That we are bound to cast the minds of youth 105 
Betimes into the mould of heav'nly truth, 
That Unght of God they may indeed be wise, 
Nor, ignoranUy wandering*, miss the skies.* 
In early days the conscience has in most 
A quickness, which in later Iif6 is lost : 110 

Presenr'd from guilt by salutary fears, 
Or, guilty, soon relenting into tears. 
Too careless of^en, as our years proceed, 
What friends we sort with, or what books we read, 
Our parents yet exert a prudent care, 115 

To feed our infant minds with proper fare ; 
And wisely store the nurs*ry by degrees 
With wholesome learning, yet acquir'd with ease. 
Neatly secur'd from being soil'd or torn 
Beneath a pane of thin translucent horn, 120 

A book, (to please us at a tender age 
Tis caird a book, though but a s'uigle page.) 
Presents the pray'r the Saviour deign*d to teach', 
Which children use, and parsons— when they preach. 
Lisping our syllables, we scramble next 125 

Through moral narrative, or sa<5red text ; 
And learn with wonder how this world began. 
Who made, who marr*d, and who has ransom'd man. 
Points which, unless the Scripture made them plain, 
The wisest heads might agitate in vain. 130 

thou, whom, borne on fancy's eager wing 
Back to the season of life's happy spring, 

1 ploas'd remember, and, while mem'ry yet 
Holds fast her oflSce here, can ne'er forget ; 
Ingenious dreamer, in whose well-told tale 135 
Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail ; 

Whose hum'rous vein, strong sense, and simple styloj 
May teach the gayest, make the gravest smile ; 
Witty, and well employ'd, and like thy Lord, 
Speaking in parables his slighted word ; 140 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS 159 

I name thee not, lest bo despis'd a name 
Should move a sneer at thy deserved fame , 
Tet e*en in transitory life's late day, 
That mingles all my brown with sober gray, 
Revere the man, whose Pilgrim marks the road, 14S 
And guides tho progress of the soul to God. 
Twere welf with most, if books, that could engage 
Their childhood, pleas'd them at a riper age ; 
Tho man approving what had charm'd tho boy, 
Would die at last in comfort, peace, and joy ; 150 

And not with curses on his heart, who stole 
Tho. gem of truth from his unguarded sool. 
The stamp of artless piety impressed 
By kind tuition on his yielding breast, 
The youth now bearded, and yet pert and raw, 15S 
Regards with scorn, though once receiv'd with awe ; 
And, warp'd into the labyrinth of lies, 
That babblers, calFd philosophers, devise, 
Blasphemes his creed, as founded on a plan 
Replete with dreams, unworthy of a man- IflO 

Touch but his nature in its ailing part, 
Assert the native evil of his heart. 
His pride resents the charge, although the proof 
Rise in his forehead,^ and seem rank enough ; 
Point to tlie cure, describe a Saviour's crosa ^65 

As God's expedient to retrieve his loss. 
The young apostate sickens at the view. 
And hates it with the malice of a Jew. 

'How weak the barrier of mere Nature proves, 
Oppos'd against the pleasures Nature loves t J70 

While self-betray'd and wildfully undone, 
She longs to yield, no sooner woo*d than won. 
Try now the merits of this bless'd ezcbangey 
Of modest truth for wit's eccentrick range. 
Time was, he clos'd as he began the day 176 

With decent duty, not asham'd to pray : 

* See 2 Chron. ch. xxvi. ver. 19. 



160 TIROCINIUM : OR, 

The practice was a bond upon his heart| 

A pledge he gave for a consistent part ; , 

Nor could he dare presumptuously displease 

A pow'r confess'd so lately on his knees. 180 

But now farewell all legendary tales, 

The shadows fly, philosophy prevails ; 

Pray 'r to the winds, and caution to the waves 5 

Religion makes thee free by nature slaves ! 

Priests have invented, and the world admir'd 186 

What knavish priests promulgate as inspir'd; 

Till Reason, now no longer overaw'd. 

Resumes her powers, and spurns the clumsy frauds 

And, common sense diffusing real day. 

The meteor of the Gospel dies away 190 

Such rhapsodies our shrewd discerning youth 

Learn from expert inquirers after truth ; 

Whose only care, might truth presume to speak) 

Is not to find what they profess to seek. 

And thus, well-tutor'd only while we share 105 

A mother's lectures and a nurse's care ; 

And taught at schools much mythologick stuff/ 

But sound religion sparingly enough ', 

Our early notices of truth, disgraced, 

Soon lose their credit, and are all eflac'd. 200 

Would you your son should be a sot or dunee, 
Lascivious, headstrong, or all these at once ; 
That in good time the stripling's finish'd taste 
For loose expense^ and fashionable waste, 
Should prove your ruin and his own at last *, 9D5 

Train him in publick with a mob of boys. 
Childish in mischief Only and in noise. 
Else of a mannish growth, and five in ten 
In infidelity and lewdness men. 

* Tlie author beipi leave to ejcplain. Sensible that without 
«uch knowledj^e neither the ancient poets nor historians can ' 
be tasted, or indeed understcT^, he does not mean to c^isure 
the pains tliat are taken to instruct a school boy in the religion 
of the Heathen, but merely that neglect of Christie culture, 
wliich leaves him sharaefuJiy ignorant of his own. 



z=ri=!i 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. ICl 

There etiall he learn, ere sixteea winters old, 810 
That authors are most useful, pawn'd or sold ; 
That pedantry is all that schools impart, 
Bat taverns teach the knowledge of the heart ; 
There waiter Dick, with Bacchanalian lays, 
Shall win his heart, and have his drunken praise , 215 
His counsellor and bosom friend shall prove. 
And some street-pacing' harlot his first love. 
Schools, unless discipline were doubly strong, 
Detain their adolescent charge too long ; 
The management of tyroes of eighteen 220 

Is difficult, their punishment obscene. 
The stout tall captain, whose superiour size 
The minor heroes view with envious eyes. 
Becomes their pattern, upon whom they fix 
Their whole attention, and ape all his tricks. 225 

His pride, that scorns t* obey or to submit. 
With them is courage } his effrontVy, wit. 
His wild excursions, window-breaking feats, 
Robb'ry of gardens, quarrels in the streets, 229 

His hairbreadth 'scapes, and all his daring schemes^ 
Transport them, and are made their fav'xite themes. 
In little bosoms such achievements strike 
A kindred spark : they bum to do the like : 
Thus half accomplished ere he yet begin 
To show the peeping down upon his chin ; 235 

And, as maturity of years comes on. 
Made just th' adept that you designed your son , 
T*^ ensure the perseverance of Lis course. 
And give your monstrous project all its force, 
Send him to college. If he there be tam*dy 24G 

Or in one article of vice reclaimed. 
Where no regard of ord*nances is shown 
Or look*d f<» BOWy the fault must be his own, 
Some sneaking virtue lutks in him, no doubt, 
Where neither strumpets' charms nor drinking; bout. 
Nor gambUng practices, can find it out, 246 

Such youths of spirit, and that spirit too, 
14 » 



=*ll 



m TIROCINIUM : OR, 

Te nnrs'ries of our boys, we owe to you : 

Though from ourselves the mischief more proeeedsy 

For publick schoote 'tis puUick fblly feeds. 850 

The slaves of custom and established mode^ 

With packhorse constancy we keep the road, 

Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny delhi, 

True to the jingling of oar leader's beUs. 

To follow foolish precedents, and wink S56 

With both our eyes, is easier than to think ; 

And such an age as ours balks no expense. 

Except of caution, and of common sense ; 

Else sure notorious fact and proof so plain, ' 

Would turn our steps into a wiser train. 860 

I blame not those who, with what care they can, 

O'erwatch the numerous and unruly clan; 

Or, if I blame, *tis only that they dare 

Picomise a work, of which they must despair. 

Have ye, ye sage intendants of the whole, 865 

A ubiquarian presencp and control*- 

Elisha's eye, that, when Gehazi strayM, 

Went with him, and saw ail the game he play'd ? 

Yes — ^ye are conscious ; and on all the shelve 

Your pupils strike upon, have struck yourselves. 87Q 

Or if, by nature sober, ye had then, 

Boys as ye were, the gravity of men ; 

Ye knew at least, by constant proofig addressed 

To ears and eyes, the vices o€ the rest. 

But ye connive at what ye cannot cure, 875 

And evils, not to be isndur'd, endure, 

Lest pow'r exerted, but without snccess, 

Bhonld make the little ye retain still less. 

Yo once were justly fam'd for bringing ibtth . 

Undoubted sch^ari^p and genuine worth ; . 880 

And in the firmament of fame still shines 

A glory, bright as that of all the signs, 

Of poets raised by you, and sts^smen, and divipes. 

Peace to them all ! those brilliant times are fled» 

And no such lights are kindling in their stead* 88^; 



I 



A REVIEW OF SCUOOLS. 1C3 

Our striplings shine indeed, bnt with such rays, ~ 
As set the midnight riot in n blaze ; 
And seem, if judg'd by their expressive looks. 
Deeper in none than in their surgeons' books. 

Say, Muse, (for education made the sonj{, 200 

No muse can hesitate, or linger long,) 
What causes move us, knowing as we must. 
That these menagBries all fail their trust, 
To send our sons to scout and scamper there. 
While colts and puppies cost us so much care f 2D5 

Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise, 
We love the play-place of our early days ; 
The scene is touching, and the heart is stone 
That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. 
The wall on which we tried our graving skill, 300 
The very name we carv'd subsisting still ; 
The bench on which we sat while deep employed, 
Tho' mangled, hock'd, and hew*d, not yet destroyed , 
The little ones, unbotton'd, glowing hot. 
Playing our games, and on the very spot ; 306 

As happy as we once, to kneel and draw 
The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw } 
To pitch the ball into the grounded hat, 
Or drive it devious with a dext'rous pat ; 
Tho pleasing spectacle at once excites - 310 

Such recollection of our own delights. 
That, viewing it, we seem almost t' obtain 
Our innocent sweet simple years again. 
This fond attachment to' the well-known place, 
Whence first we started into life's long race, Zl& 

Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, 
We feel it e'en in age, and at our latest day. 
Hark ! how the sire of chits, whose future share 
Of clossick food begins to be his care. 
With his own likeness plac'd on either knee, 3^ 

Indulges all a father's heart-felt glee ; 
Add tells them, as he strokes their silver locks, 
Tl>at they must soon learn Iiatin, and to box ; 



164 TIROCINIUM . OR, 

Then turning, he regales his list'ning wife 
With all the adventures of his early Ufb ; 325 

His skill in coachmanship, or driving chaise, 
In bilking tavern bills, and spouting plays; 
What shifts he us'd, detected m a scrape, 
How he was flogg'd or had the luck ^ escape ; 
AVhat sums he lost at play, and how ho sold 330 

Watch, seals, and all— till aU his pranks are told. 
Retracing thus his frolicks^ ('tis a name 
That palliates deeds of folly and of shame,) 
He gives the local bias all its sway ; 
Resolves that where he play'd his sons shall play, 335 
And destines their bright genius to be shown 
Just in the scene where he display'd his own. 
•The meek and bashful boy will soon be taught. 
To be as bold and forward as he ought ; 
The rude will scuflSe through with ease enough, 340 
Great schools suit best the sturdy and the rough. 
Ah happy designation, prudent choice, 
Th' event is sure ; expect it, and rejoice ! 
Soon see your wish fulfill'd in either child— 
The pert made perter, and the tamo made wild. 345 

The great, indeed, by titles, riches, birth, 
Excused th' encumbrance of more solid worth. 
Are bedt dispos'd of where with most success 
They may acquire that confident address, 
Those habits of profuse and lewd expense, 350 

That scorn of all delights but those of sense, 
Which, though in plain plebeians we condenm. 
With so much reason all expect from them. 
But families of less illustrious fame, 
Whose chief distinction is their spotless name, 355 
Whose heirs, their honours none, their income small. 
Must shine by true desert, or not at all, 
What dream they of, that with so little car^ 
They risk their hopes, their dearest treasure there ? 
They dream oflittle Charles or William grac'd 3C0 
With wig prolix, down flowing to his waist : 



J 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 165 

HSuty see th' attentive crowds hia t&lents draw : 
They hear him sp^ak-^the oracle* of law. 
The father, who designs his babe a priest, 
Dreams him episcopally such at least ; 365 

And while the playftil jockey scours the Voom 
Briskly, astride upon the parlour broom, 
[n fancy sees him»more superbly ride 
In coach with purp^le lin'd, and mitres on its Btdto. 
Events improbable and strange as these, 370 

Which only a parental eyeloresees, 
A poblick school 6hali brittor to paafe with ease. 
But how ! Besides such virtue in thtit air, 
As must create an hppetlte for pray'r ? 
And. will it breathe into him all the seeal, 375 

That candidates for such a prize should feel, 
To take the lead and be the foremost still 
In all true Worth and literary skill ? 
" Ah, blind to bright futurity, untaught 
The knowledge of the world, and dull of thought r* 
Church-ladders are not always mounted best 380 

Bjr Earned clerks, and Latinists professed. 
Th' exalted prize demands an upward look^ 
Not to be found by poring on a book. 
Small skill in Latin, and still less in Greek, 3S5 

Is more than adequate to all I seek. 
Let ©rudition grace him or not grace, 
I give the bauble but the second place ; 
His wealth, fame, honours, all thtft I intend. 
Subsist and centre in one point — a friend. 390 

A friend, whate'er he studies or neglects. 
Slum give him consequence, heal all defects. 
fiis intercourse with peers and sons of peers. 
There ^awns the splendour of his future years : 
In that bright. quarter his propitious skies 395, 

Shall blush betimes, and there his glory rise. 
Your Lordship and Your Grace ! what school can teacli 
A rhet'rick equal to those parts of speech ! 
What need of Homer's verse, or TuUy's prose, 



166 TIROCINIUM : OR, 

Sweet interjections ! if he learn but those ? 400 

Let rcv'rend churls his ignorance rebuke. 

Who starv'd upon a dog*s-ear'd Pentateuch, 

The parson knows enough, who knows a duke." 

Egregious purpose ! worthily begun 

In barbarous prostitution of your son ; 4Ci5 

Press'd on his part by means that would disgraoe 

A scriv'ner's clerk, or footman out of place, 

And ending, if at last its end be gain'd, 

In sacrilege, in God's own'house profan'd ! 

It may succeed ; and, if his sins should call 410 

For more than common punishment, it shall ; 

The wretch shall rise, and be the thing on earth 

Least qualified in honour, learning, worth, 

To occupy a sacred awfiil post. 

In which the best and worthiest tremble most. 415 

The royal letters are a thing of course, 

A king, that would, might recommend his horee ; 

And deans, no doubt, and chapters with one voice. 

As bound in duty, would confirm the choice. 

Behold your bishop ; well he plays' his part, 420 

Christian in name, and infidel in heart, 

Ghostly in office, earthly in his plan, 

A slave at court, elsewhere a lady's man. 

Dimib as a senator, and as a priest 

A piece of mere church furniture at best ; 435 

To live estrang'd from God his total scope, 

And his end sure, witbbut one glimpse of hope. 

But fair although and feasible it seem. 

Depend not much upon your golden dream : 

For Providence, that seems concem'd t' exempt 430 

The hallow'd bench fi;om absolute contempt, 

Jn spite of all the wrigglers into place. 

Still keeps a seat or two for worth and grace ; 

And therefore 'tis that though the sight be rare, 

Wo sometimes see a Lowth or Bagot there. 43S 

Besides, school-friendships are not always found, 

Though fair in promiso, permanent and sound ; 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. lift 

The most disinterested and Tirtuous minds, 
In early years connected, time unbinds. 
New situations give a diflTrent cast 440 

Of habit, inclination, temper, taste ; 
And he that seem'd our counterpart at first, 
Soon shows the strong similitude, revers'd. 
Yeung heads are giddy, and young hearts are warm. 
And make mistakes for manhood to reform. 445 

Boys are at best but pretty buds unblown, 
Whose scent and hues are rather guessed than known ; 
Each dreams that each is just what he appears, 
But learns his erronr in maturer years, 
When disposition, like a sail unfurPd, 450 

Shows all its rents and patches to the world 
If^ therefore, e'en when honest in design, 
A boyish friendship may so soon decline, 
Twere wiser sure t* inspire a little heart 
With just abhorrence of so mean a part, 455 

Than set your son to work at a vile trade 
For wages so uvlikely to be paid. 

Our publick hives of puerile resort, 
That are of chief and most approved report. 
To such base hopes, in many a sordid soul, 450 

Owe their repute in part, but not the whole. 
A principle, whose proud pretensions pass 
Unquestioned, though the jewel be but glass — 
That with a world, not often over nice. 
Ranks as a virtue, and is yet a vice ; 466 

Or rather a gross compound, justly tried, 
Of envy, hatred, jealousy, and pride—" 
Contributes most perhaps t' enhance their fame 
And emulation is its specious name. 
Boys, once on fire with that contentions zeal, 470 
Feel all the rage that female rivals feel ; 
The prize of beauty in a woman's eyes 
Not brighter than in theirs the scholar's prize 
The spirit of that competition bums 
With all varieties of ill by turns j 478 



m TlROClNlUxM: OR, 

E^ch vainlj magnifies lus own success, 

Resents his*fellow'8, wisbos it were less, • 

Emits in his miscarriage if he fail. 

Deems lis reward too great if he prevail, 

And labours to surpass him day and night, 480 

Less for improvement than to tickle spite. 

The spur is pow'rlbl, and i grant its force $ 

(t ^icks the genius forward in its course, 

Allows short time for pfaiy, and none for sloth ; 

And, felt alike by each, advances both : 485 

But judge, where so much evil intervenes. 

The end, though plausible, not worth the means. 

"Vlfftigh, for a moment, classieal desert 

Against a heart deprav'd and temper hurt ; 

Hurt, too, perhaps, for life ; for early wrong, 49Q 

Done to the noblSi part, aflSscts it long ; 

And you are stanch indeed in learning's eaciBOy 

If you can crown a discipline, that draws 

Such mischiefs after it with much applause. 

Connexion formed for interest, and endear 'd 491 

By selfish views,, thus censur'd und eashiejt'd ; 
And emul^on, as engendering hate, 
][>qom'd to ^ no less ignominious fate : 
The props <»f such proud seminaries fall. 
The Jachin and the Boaz of them all. W 

Great schools rejected then, as those that swell 
Beyond a size that can be manag'd well> 
3ball royal institutioniB miss the bays, 
And small academies win all the praise ? 
Force not my drift beyound its ji^st intent, ' ffOS 

I praise a school as Pope a government ; 
So take my judgn>eB(«in his language dresii'd^ 
** Whatever is best admimsterVi is best." 
Few boys are bor^ with talents that ejEcel, 
But all are capable of living well ', . ' 5li 

Then ask not, Whether limited or large ? 
But, Watch thoy strictly, or neglect their charge? 



A REVIEW 0*' SCHOOLS. KP 

If anxious only, that their boyif may leam^ 
While morals languish, a despis'd coneerov 
The great and small deserve one comioon blamty 51ft 
Different in size, hut in eilect the same. 
Much zeal in virtue s cause all teachers boMi, 
Though motives of mere lucre sway the most ; 
Therefore in towns and cities they abound, 
For there the game they seek is easiest Ibund | &80 
Though there, in spite of all that care can dop 
Trapf to catch youth are more abundant too. 
If shrewd, and of a well-constructed brais, 
Keen in pursuit, and vig'rous to retain, 
Tour son come forth a prodigy of skill ; 099 

As, wheresoever taught, so form'd he wiU ; 
The pedagogue, with self-complacent air, 
Claims more than half the praise as his due shtro. 
But if, with a}l his genius, ho betray, '^ 

Not more intelligent than loose and gay, 690 

Such vicious habits as disgrace liis name, 
Threaten his health, his fortune, and his fame ; 
Though want of duo Restraint alone have bred 
The symptoms, .that you see with so much dread: 
Unenvied there, he may sustain alone 535 

The whole reproach, the fault was all hifl own. 

O 'tis a sight to bo with joy perus'd. 
By all whom sentiment has not abus'd , 
New-fangled sentiment, the boasted grace 
Of thpse who never feel in the right place ; 540- 

A sight Burpass'd.by none that we can sboir. 
Though Vestris on one leg still shine bek>TF ; 
A father blest with an ingenuous son, 
Father, and friend, and tutor, all iii one ; 
How ! — ^turn again to tales long since forgot, 545 

iElsop, and Phasdrus, and the rest ?-^Why not ? 
He will nut blush, ^bat has a father's heart* 
To take in childish plays a childish part ; 
But bends his stqrdy back to any toy 
That youth takes pleasure in, to ploaso his boy ; 550 

Vol. II. !•''» 



wo TIROCINIUM: OR, 

ThAi why reMgn into a ttr&nger's h&nd 

A task as much within your own command, ' 

That God and Nature, and your interest too 

Seem with one voice to delegate to you ? 

Why hire a lodging in a house unknown 556 

For one, whoee tend'rest thoughts all hover rofoml 

your own ? 
This second weaning, needless as it is. 
How does it lac'rate both your heart and his ! 
Th* indented stick, that loses day by day 
Notch after notch, till all are smoothed away, 500 

Bears witness, long, ere his dismission come. 
With what intense desire he wants his home. 
But though the jojrs he hopes beneath your roof 
Bid fair enough to answer in the proof. 
Harmless, and safe, and nat'ral, as they are M5 

A disappointment waits him even there : 
Arriv'd, he feels an unezpeoted change. 
He blushes, hangs his head, is shy and strange ; 
No longer takes, as once, with fearless ease, 
His fav'rite stand between his father's knees, 570 

But seeks the corner of some distant seat. 
And eyes the door, and watches a retreat ; 
And, least familiar where he should be most, 
Feels all his happiest privileges lost. 
Alas, poor boy ! — the natuta) effect 675 

Of love by absence chilled into respect. ' 

Say, what accomplishments, at school aequir*dy 
Brings he to sweeten fruits so undesirM ? 
Thou well deserv*st an alienated son, 
Unless thy conscious heart acknowledge — none ; 661 
None that, in thy domestick snug recess. 
He had not made his own with more address. 
Though some, perhaps, that shock thy feeling mind. 
And better never leam'd, or left behind. 
Add, too, that, thus estranged, thou canst obtun C85 
By no kind arts his confidence again ; 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 
I'hat here begins with most that long eonipUint 
Of filial frankness lost, and love grown faint ; 
Which, oft neglected in life's waning yean 
A parent poors into regardless ears. 

Like caterpillars dangling under trees 
By slender threads, and swinging in the bieezoi 
Which filthily bewray and sore disgrace 
The boughs in which are bred th' unseemly race s 



m 



600 



605 



While ev'ry worm industriously weaves 

And winds his web about the rivell'd leaves ; 

So num'rous are the follies that annox 

The mind and heart of e^ry sprightly boy; 

Imaginations noxious and perverse. 

Which admonition can alone disperse, 600 

Th* encroaching nuisance asks a faithful hand> 

Patient, affectionate, of high command. 

To check the procreation of a breed 

Sure to exhaust the plant on which they feed. 

Tis not enough, that Greek or Roman page, 606 

At stated hours, his freakish thoughts engage ; 

E'en in his pastimes he requires a friend 

To warn, and teach him safely to unbend 

O'er all his pleasures gently to preside. 

Watch his emotions, and control their tide ; 610 

And levying thus, and with an easy sway, 

A tax of profit from his vety play, 

T* impress a value not to be eras'd. 

On moments squander'd else, and running all to waste 



And seems it nothing in a father's eye. 
That unimprov'd thrjse many moments fly 
And is he well content his son should find 
No nourishment to feed his growing mind, 
But conjugated verbs, and nouns declin'd ? 
For such is all the mental food purvey'd 
By publick hacknies in the schooling trade } 
Who feed a pupil's intellect with store 
Of syntax, truly, but with little more ; 



615 



620 



in TIROCINIUM : OR, 

Oismiss their caroSi when tltey dismiss their floek. 

Machines themselves, and governed by a elook. CBS 

Perhaps a father, bless'd with any brainli, 

Would deem it no abuse, or waste of pains, 

T' improve this diet, at no great expense, 

With sav'ry truth and wholesome common sense : 

To lead bis son, for prospects of defight, €00 

To some not steep, though philosophick height, 

Thence to exhibit to his wondering eyes 

Ton circling worlds, their distance and their size, 

The moons of Jove, and Saturn's belted ball, 

And the harmonious order of (hem all ; 6^ 

To show him in an insect or a flow*r 

Soch microscopick proof of dull and powY, 

As, hid from ages past, CU>d now displays, 

To combat atheists with in modem days ; 

To spread the earth before him, and commend ^ 640 

With designation of the fingers* end, 

Its various parts to his attentive note. 

Thus bringing home to him the most remote ; 

To teach his heart to glow with gen'rous flame, 

Caught from the deeds of men of ancient fame; 643 

And, more than all, with commendation due^ 

To set some living worthy in his view. 

Whose fair example may at once inspire 

A wish to copy what he muGit admire. 

Such knowledge gained betimes, and which appears 

Though solid, not too weighty for his years, • 651 

Sweet in itself, and not forbidding sport, 

When health demands it, of athletick sort, 

Would make him — ^what some lovely boys have been, 

And more than one, perhaps, that I have seen— 656 

An evidence and reprehension both 

Of the mere school-boy's lean and tardy growth 

Art thou a man professionally tied, 
Witli all thy faculties elsewhere applied. 
Too busy to intend a meaner care, 660 

Than how t' enrich thyself, and next thine heir : 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 17% 

Or art thou (as, though rich, perhaps thou art ) 
But poor in knowledge, having none t* impart' 
Behold that figure, neat, though plainly olad ; 
His sprightly mingled with a shade of sad ; MB 

Not of a nimble tongoe, though now and then 
Heard to aKioulate like other men ; 
No jester, and yet lively in discourse, • 

His phrase well chosen, clear, and full offeree 
And his address, if not quite French in ease, • 670 
Not English stiff, but frank, and form'd to please . 
Low in the world because he scorns its arts ; 
A man of letters, manners, morals, puts ; 
Unpatronis'd, and therefore little known ; 
Wise for himself and his few friends alone — 9IS 

In him thy well-appointed proxy see, 
Arm*d for a work too difficult for thee ; 
Prepar'd by taste, by learning, and true worth, 
To form thy son, to strike his genius forth ; 
Beneath thy roof, beneath thine eye, to prove 9&$ 
The force of discipline when back'd by love ; 
To double all thy pleasure in thy child. 
His mind inform'd, his morals undefil'd. 
Safe under such a wing, the boy shall show 
No spots contracted among grooms below, G85 

Nor taint his speech with meannesses deugn'd 
By footman Tom for witt^ and refin'd. 
There, in his commerce with the liv'ried herd, 
Lurks the contagion chiefly to be fear*d ; 
For since, (so fashion dictates,) all who claim 090 

A lugher than a more plebeian fame. 
Find it expedient, come what mischief may, 
To entertain a thief or two in pay, 
.(And they that can afford th' expense of more. 
Some hiAf a dozen, and some half a score,) 60S 

Great cause occurs, to save him from a band 
So sure to spoil him, and so near at hand ; 
A point secur'd, if once he be supply'd 
With some such Mentor always at his side. 
15* 



174- f TlROClNlUxM : OH, * 

Are such men rare ? perhaps they would ttbound, 708 

Were occupation easier to be found, * 

Were education, else so sure to fail, 

Colo^cted on a manageablo scale, 

And schools, that have outliy'd all just esteem^ 

Exchanged for the secure domestick scheme.— 706 

But,«having found him, be thou duke or eari^ 

Show thou hast sense enough to prize the pearl, 

Aw}, as thou wouldst th' adyancement of Uiine hek 

In all good Acuities beneath his care, 

Respect, as is but rational and just, 718 

A man deem'd worthy of so dear a trust. 

Despis'd by thee, what more can he expect 

Fi^m youthful iblly than the same neglect ? 

A flat and fatal negative obtains, 

That instant, upon all his future pains ; 715 

His lessons tire, his mild rebukes offend. 

And all th' instructions of thy son's best friend 

A^ a stream ohok'd) or trickling to no end. 

Doom him not then to solitary meals ; 

But recollect that he has sense, and feels : 790 

And that, possessor of a soul refin'd. 

An upright heart and cultivated mind, 

His post not mean, his talents not unknown, 

He deems it hard to vegetate alone. 

And,*if admitted at thy board he sit, 725 

Account him no just mark for idle wit ; 

Offend not him, whom modesty restrains 

From repartee, with jokes that he disdains •, 

Much less transfix his feelings with an oath ; 

Nor frown, unless he vanish with the cloth. ^^30 

And, trust me, his utility may reach 

To more than he is hir'd or bound to teach ; 

MiKh trash unutter'd, and some ills undone, 

Through rev'rence of the censor of tl>y son. 

But, if thy table be indeed unclean, 735 

Foul with excess, and with disoiurse obseena* 



=J 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. 176 

And thou a wret^, whom, foirwing her owa^ia 
The world ftccounts an honoarable man, 
Because forsooth thy courage has been tried 
And stood the test, perhaps on the wrong nde ; 748 
Though thou hadst never grace enough to proTO 
That'any thing but vice could win thy love ; — 
Or' hast thou a polite, card-playing wife, 
Chain'd to the routs that she frequents for life ; 
Who, just when industry begins to snore, 74§ 

Flies, wing'd with joy, to some coach-crowded door; 
And thrice in every winter throngs thine own 
With half the chariots and sedans in town, 
Thyself meanwhile e'en shifting as thoumayst,* 
Not very sober though, nor very chaste ; 760 

Or is thine house, though less superb thy rank 
If not a scene of pleasure, a mere blank, 
And thou at best, and in thy sob'rest mood, 
A trifler, vaSn and empty of all good ; 
Though mercy for thyself thou canst have none, 766 
Hear Nature plead, show mercy to thy son. ^ 

Sav^ from his home, where every day brings forth 
Some mischief fatal to his future worth, 
Find him a better in a distant spot^ 
Within some pious pastot's humble cot, 760 

Where vile example, (yours I chiefly mean, 
The most seducing, and the oft'nest seen,) 
May never more be stamped upon his brdast, 
Nor yet perhaps incurably impressed. 
Where early rest makes early rising sure, 765 

Disease or comes not, or finds easy cure * 
Prevented much by diet neat and plain ; 
Or, if it enter, won starr'd out again : 
Where all th' attention of his faithfbl host. 
Discreetly litnlted to two at most, 770 

May raise sticfa fruits as shall reward hit care, 
And not at last evaporate in ur; 
Where, stillness aiding study, and his mind 
Serene, and to his duties much incliu'd. 



176 TIROCINIUM . OR, 

Not occupied m day-droaius, as at home, 775 

or pleasures past, or follies yet to come, 

His virtuous toil may terminate at last 

In settled habit and decided taste. — 

But whom do I advise ? the fashion led, 

Th' incorrigibly wrong, the deaf, the dead^ *780 

Whom care and cool deliberation suit 

Not better much than spectacles a brute ; 

Who, if their sons some slight tuition share. 

Deem it of no great moment whose, or -vi^re; 

Too proud t' adopt the thoughts of one unknown 765 

And much too gay t' have any of their own. 

But courage, man ! methought the muse replied 

Mankind are various, and the world is wide : 

The ostridi, silliest of the featlier'd kind, 

And form'd of God without a parent's tnind, 790 

Commits her' eggs, incautious, to the dost,' 

Forgetful that the foot may crush the trust ; 

And, while on publick nurseries they rely, 

Not knowing, and too oft not caring, why,. 

Irrational in what they thus prefer 795 

No few, that would seem wise, resemble her. * 

But all are not alike. Thy warning voice 

May here and there prevent erroneous choice ; 

And some perhaps, who, busy as they are, 

Yet make their progeny their dearest care, 800 

(Whose hearts will ache, once told what ills maj 

reach 
Their offspring, left upon so wild a beach,) 
Will need no stress of argument t* enforce 
Th' expedience of a less advent'rous course ; 
The rest will slight thy counsel or condemn ; 805 
But they have human feelings — turn to tlum. ' 

To you then, tenants of life's middle state, 
Securely plac'd between the small and great, 
Whose character, yet undebauch'd, retains 
Two tliirds of all th© virtue that remains, 8W 



A REVIEW or SCHOOLS. 177 

Who, wise yourselves, desire your son should learn 
Your wisdom and your ways — to you 1 turn. 
Look round you on a world perversely blind : 
See what contempt is fall'n on human kind ; 
See wealth abus'd, and dignities misplac'di 816 

Great titles^ offices, and trusts disgrac'd, 
Long lines of ancestry, renown'd of old. 
Their noble quaUties all quenched and cold ; 
See Bedlam's closeted and hand-cnfiTd charge 
Surpassed in frenzy by the mad at large ; 820 

Sad great commanders making war a trade , 
Great lawyers lawyers without study made : 
Churchmen, in whose esteem their best employ 
Is odious, and their wages all their joy ; 
Who, far enough from furnishing their shelves 825 
With gospel lore, turn infidels themselves ; 
See womanhood despis'd, and manhood diam'd^ 
With infamy too nauseous to be nam'd ; 
f^ops at all comers, lady-like in mien, 
Civeted fellows, smelt ere they are seen, 830 

Else coarse and rude in manners, and their tongue 
On fire with curses, and with nonsense hung. 
Now flushed with drunkenness, now with whoredom 

pale. 
Their breath a sample of last night's regale ; 
See volunteers in all the vilest arts 83$ 

Man well endow'd, of honourable parts, 
Design'd by Nature wise, but self-made fools , 
All these, and more like these, were bred at schoolfy 
And if it chance, as soi^etimes chance it will, 
That though school-bred the boy be virtuous stiO ; 840 
Such rare exceptions, shining in the dark 
Prove, rather than impeach, the just remark : 
As hero and there a .twinkling star descried. 
Servos but to show how black is all beside. 
Now look on him, whose very voice in tone 845 

/ust echoes thine, whose features are thine owik| 



178 TIROCINIUM : OR, 

kud stroke his polish'd cheek of purest red, 
And lay thine hand upon his flaxen head, 
And say, My boy, th' unwelcome hour is come, 
When thou, transplanted from tliy genial home, 851 
Must find a colder soil and bleaker air, 
And trust for safety to a stranger's care } 
What character, what turn thou wilt assume 
From constant converse with I know not whom > 
Who there will court thy friendship, with what Tiewii 
And, artless as tliou art, whom thou wilt choose ; 856 
Though much depends on what thy choice shall be^ 
Is all chance-medley, and unknown to me. 
Canst thou, the tear just trembling on thy lidS| 
And while the dreadful risk foreseen forbids ; 8G0 
Free too, and under no constraining force, 
Unless the sway of custom warp thy course ; 
Lay such a stake upon the losing side 
Merely 'to gratify so blind a guide ? 
Thou canst not ! Nature, pulUng at thine heart, 865 
Condemns th' unfatherly, th' imprudent part. 
Thou wouldst not, deaf to Nature's tend'rest ploa. 
Turn him adrift upon a rolling sea, 
Nor say. Go thither j conscious that thcTO lay 
A breed of asps or quicksands in his way ; 870 

Then, only govern'd by the self-same rule 
Of nat'ral pity, send him not to school. 
No — guard him better. Is he not thine own, 
Thyself in miniature, thy flesh, thy bone ? 
And hop'st thou not, ('tis ev'ry father's hope,) 875 
That since thy strength must with thy years elopey 
And thou wilt need some comfort to assuage 
Health's last farewell, a staff in thine old age, 
That then, in recompense of all thy cares, 
Thy child shall show respect to thy gray hairs, 860 
Befriend thee, of all other friends oereflt. 
And give thy life its only cordial lefl ! 
Aware then how much danger intervenes. 
To compass that good end forecast the means, 



A REVIEW OF SCHOOLS. ^ 179 

His heait, now passive, yields to thy command ; 88? 
Secure it thine, its key is in thine hand. 
If thou desert thy charge, and throw it wide. 
Nor heed what guest there enter and abide, 
Complain not if attachments lewd and base^ 
Supplant thee in it, and usurp thy place 890 

But, if thou guard its &cred chambers sure 
From vicious inmates and delights impure, 
Either his gratitude shall hold him fast, 
And keep him warm and filial to the last ; 
Or, if he prove unkind, (as who can say . 896 

But, being man, and therefore frail, he may ?) 
One comfort yet shall cheer thine aged heart, 
Howe'er he slight thee, thou hast done thy part. 

O barb'rous ! wouldst thou with a Gothick hand 
Pull down the schools— what 1 — ^all th' schools i' th' 
land ; 900 

Or throw them up to liv'ry nags and grooms, 
Or turn them into shops and auction rooms ? 
A captious question, sir, (and yours is one,) 
Deserves an answer similar or none. 
Wouldst thou, possessor of a flock, employ, 905 

(Apprised that he is such,) a careless boy. 
And feed him well, and give him handsome pay, ■ 
Merely to sleep, and let them run astray ? 
Survey our schools and colleges, and see 
A sight not much unlike my simile. 910 

From education, as the leading cause, 
The publick character its colour draws ; 
Thence the prevailing manners take their cast^ 
Extravagant or sober, loose or chaste. 
And, though I would not advertise them yet, 915 

Nor write on each — This building to be let, 
Unless the world w^ere all prepared t' embrace 
A plan well worthy to supply their place ; 
Yet, backward as Ihey are, and lorrg have been, 
To cultivate and keep the morals clean, 920 



(180) 
TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON. 

AN INVITATION INTO THE COUNTRY. 



THE swallows in their torpid rtate 

Compose their useless wing. 
And bees in hives as idly wait 

The e«U of earl/ Spring. 
II. 
The keenest frost that binds the stream, 

The wildest wind that blows, 
Are neither fblt nor fear*d by them> 

Secnre of their repose. 

in. 

But man, all feeling and awake, 

The gloomy scene surveys ! 
With present ills his heart must ache. 

And pant for brigrhtcr days. 
IV. 
Old Winter, halting o'er the mead, 

Bids me and Mary mourn ; 
But lovely Spring peeps o'er his heod^ 

And whispers your return. 
V. 
Then April with her sister May, 

Shall chase him from the bow'rs, 
And weave fresh garlands ev'ry dQ,y 

To crown the smiling hours. 
VI. 
And if a tear, that speaks regret, 

Of happier times, appear, 
A glimpse of joy, that we have met. 

Shall shine and dry the tear. 



(181) 



On the receipt of my Mother's Ptcture omt of Mm^ 
foUCf the gift qf my cousin Ann Bodhtmi, 



OTHAT those lips h&d langnagO! Life has past'dl 
With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
Those lips are thine— -thj own sweet smile I see*, 
The same, that oil in childhood solac'd me ; 
Voice only fails, else how distinct they say, 
" Grieve not, my child, chase all thy fears away l" 
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes, 
(Bless'd be the art that can immortalize, 
The art that baffles Time's tyrannick claim 
To quench it,) here shines on me still the i 



^. 



Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 

welcomeguest, though unexpected here ! 
Who bidd'st me honour with an artless son^, 
Affectionate, a mother lost so long. 

1 will obey, not willingly alone, 
But gladly, as the precept were her own : 
And, while that face renews ray filial grief, 
Fancy shall weave a charm for my relief. 
Shall steep me in Elysian reverie, 

A momentary dream, that thou art she. 

My mother ! when I leam'd that thou wast dead, 
Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? 
Horer'd thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son. 
Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? 
Perhaps thou gav'st me, though unfelt, a kiss, 
Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — 
Ah, that maternal smile ! it answers — ^Yes. 
I heard the bell tolVd on thy burial day. 

Vol. II. 16 



I' 



^ 






1 



182 ON THE RECEIPT OF 

I saw the hearse that bore thee slow away. 

And turning from my nors'ry window, drew 

A long, long sigh, and wept a last adieu! 

But was it such ? — It was — ^whero thou ait gofi« 

Adieus and farewells are a sound unknown. 

May I but meet thee on that peaceful shore, 

The parting word shall pass my lips no more ! 

Thy maidens, griev'd themselves at my concern, 

Oft gave me promise of thy quick return. 

What ardently I wish*4, 1 long believ'd, 

And disappointed still, was still dcceiv'd. 

By expectation ev'ry day beguil'd, 

Dupe of to-morroto even from a child. 

Thus many a sad to-morrow came and went, 

Till all my stock of infant sorrows spent, 

I learned at last submission to my lot, 

But though I less deplor'd thee, ne'er forgot. 

"Where once we dwelt our name is heard no more, 
Children not thine have trod mv nurs'ry floor ; 
And where the gard'ner, Robin, day by day, * 
Drew me to school along the publick way, 
Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapped 
In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet cap, 
Tis now become a hist*ry little known , 
•l^hat once we call'd the past'ral house our own. 
Short-liv'd possession ! . but the record fair, 
That mem'ry keeps of all the kindness there. 
Still outlives many a storm, that has eflac*d 
A thousand other themes less deeply traced. 
Thy nightly visits to my chamber made. 
That thou mightst know me safe and warmly laid \ 
* Thy morning bounties ere I lefCmy home. 

The biscuit, or confectionary plum, 
. The fragrant waters on my cheeks bestow*d 
By thy own hand, till fresli they shone and glow*d '* 
All this, and more endearing still than all. 
Thy constant flow of lovo» that knew no fall, 



MY MOTHERS PICTURE 183 

Ne'er roughen'd by those cataracti and breacf 
That hmnomr interpos'd too often makes ; 
All this still legible in menf ry's page. 
And stiH to be so to mj latest age, 
Adds joy to duty, makes me glad to pay 
Such honours to thee as my nambers may : 
Perhaps a frail memorial, bnt sincere, 
Mot scom'd in Heav'n, though little notie'd here. 

Could Time, his flight reversed, restore the hoars. 
When, playing ^ith thy vesture's tissu'd flow'xSy 
The violet, the pink, and jessamine, 
I prick'd them into paper with a pm, 
(And thou wast happier than myself the while, 
Wouldst softly speak, and stroke my head and smile,) 
Could those few pleasant days again appear, . . 
Might one wish bring them, would I wish -them her« i 
I would not trust my heart — the dear delight 
Seems so to be desir'd, perhaps I might — 
But no— what here we call our life is such, 
So little to be lov'd, and thou so much, 

, That I should ill requite thee to constrain 

\^Thy unbound spirit into bonds again. 

Thou, as a gallant bark from Albion's coast, 
(The storms all weather'd and the ocean cross'd,) 
Shoots into port at some well-haven'd isle. 
Where spices breathe, and brighter seasons smito^ 
There sits quiescent on the floods that show 
Hei beauteous form reflected clear below, 
While airs impregnated with incense play 
Around her fanning light her streamers gay ; 
So thou, with sails how swifl ! hast reach'd the shore, 
** Where tempests nef er beat nor billows roar,"* 
And thy lov'd consort on the dang'rous tide 
' Of life long since has anchor'd by thy side. 
But me, scarce hoping to attain that rest. 
Always from port withheld, always distress'd— 
♦ Garth. 



184 OiN THK RECEIPT OF, Ac. 

Mo liowllng UasU drive deYious, tempoii-toM*d, 
* Sails ripp'd, scams op'uing wide, and e^myamB hu^ 
And day by day sonie current's thwarting lorce * 
Sets me more distant from a prosp'rouff course.' 
Tet O the thought, that thou art safe, wmI he S 
That thought is joy, arrive wh^ may to mo. 
My boast is not, that f, doduce my bhrfh 
From loins enthron'd, and rulers of the Earth; 
But higher far my proud pretensions rise— * 

The son of parents pass'd into the skies. 
And now farewell — Time unrevok'd has nm 
Hb wonted course, yet what I wish'd is done, 
By contemplation's help, not sought in vain, 
I seem t' have liv'd my childhood o'er again ; 
To have renew'd the joys that once were mine, 
Without the sin of violating thine ; 
And while the wingsjof Fancy still are fi«e, 
And I can view this mimick show of thee. 
Time has but half succeeded in his theH — 
Thyself reroov'd, thy pow'r to sooth me left. 



FRIENDSHIP. 



WHAT virjuo, or what mental gnoe. 
But men unqualified and base 

Will boast it their possession ? 
Profusion apes the nebler part 
Of liberality of heart. 

And dulness of discretion. 
If ev'ry polish'd gem we find 
Illuminating heart or mind, 

Provoke to Imitation ; 
No wonder friendship does the same, 
That jewel of the purest flame, 

Or rather constellation 

No knave but boldly will pretend 
The requintes that form a friend, ■ 

A real and a sound one ; 
Nor any fool, he would deceive. 
But proves as ready to believe, 

And dream that he had found one. 
Candid, and generons, ancTjust, 
Boys care but little whom they trust. 

An erronr soon corrected — 
For who but learns in riper years. 
That man, when smoothest he appem 

Is most to J^ suspected ? 

But here again a danger lies. 
Lest, having misapplied our eyes, 

And taken trash for treasure. 
We diould unwarily conclude 
FriendslUp a false ideal good, 

A mere Utopian pleasure. 
16* 



186 FRiENDSfflP. 

An acqmsition rather rare 
' Is yet no subject of despair ; 

Nor is it wise complaining, 
If either on forbidddeB giouady 
Or where it was not to be found, 

We sought without attaining. 

No friendship will abide the test, 
That stands on sordid interest, 

Or mean selfloyo erected : 
Nor such as may awhile subsist, 
Between the sot and sensualist, 

For vicious ends connected. 

Who seeks a friend should come disposed 
T' exhibit m full bloom disclos'd 

The graces and the beauties, 
Tfabt form the character he seeks 
For *tis a union that bespeaks 

Reciprocated duties. 

Mutual attention is implied. 
And equal truth on either side, 

And constantly supported ; 
*Tis senseless arrogance t* accuse 
Another of sinister views, 

Our own as much distorted. 

. But will sincerity suffioi^? 
It is indeed above all price, 

And must be made the basis j 
But ov*ry virtue of the soul 
Must constitute the charming wholdj^ 

All shining in their places. 

A fretful temper will divide 

The closest knot that may be tied. 

By ceaseless sharp corrosion ; 
A temper passionate and fierce 
May suddenly your joys diapcrae 

At one immense explosion. 



FRIENDSHiP. 187 

In yain the talkative unite 

In hopes of permanent delight — * 

* The Bocrot just committed, 
Forgetting its impoftant weight, 
They drop through mere desire to ptatey 

And by themselves outwitted. 
How bright soe'etf tiie psospeot i 
All thoughts of friendship are but < 

If envy chance to cie^ in -5 
An envious man, if yoa succeed, 
May prove a dang'rous foe indeed^ 

But not a friend worth keeping. 

As envy pines at good poBnsB*d, 
So jealousy looks forth distxess'd 

On good, that seems approaching ^ 
And if success his steps attend, 
Discerns a rival in a friend, 

And hates him for encroadiing* 
Hence authors of illustrious name 
Unless belied by common fame, 

Are sadly prone to quarrel. 
To deem the Vit a firiend dii^Iays 
A tax upon their own just praise, 

And pluck eadi other'aiaareL 
A man renown'd for repartee, 
Will seldom scruple to make fre* 

With friendship's finest feeliiig 'r 
Will thrust a dagger at your bzeas^ 
And say he wounded you in jest. 

By way of balm for healing. 
Whoever keeps an open ear 
For tattlers, will be sure to hear 

The trumpet of pontontioa ', 
Aspersion is the babbler's teads^ 
To listen is to lend lum aid, 

And rush in^ dissension. 



188 Fmjsm^arHiF. 

A friendship, that in frequent fits 
Of controversial rage omits . 

The sparks of disputation, 
Like hand in hand inwranca plates^ 
Most unavoidably creates 

The thought of conflagfatioo* 

Some fickle creatores boast a Mai 
True as a jMedle to the paLo* 

Their humour yet so various, 
They manifest tlveir whole Hfe througk 
The needle's deviations too, 

Their love is so precarious. 

The great and small but rarely meet 
On temiB of amity complete, 

Plebeians must surrender 
And yield so much to noble folk. 
It is combining fire with smoke, 

Obscurity with splendour. 

Some are so placid and serene 
(As Irish bogs are always green,) 

They sleep secure from waking : 
And are indeed a bog that boars 
Tour unparticipatod cares 

Unmov'd and without quaking. 

Courtier and patriot cannot mix 
Their het'rogeneous politicks, 

Without an efiervescence, 
Like that of salts with lemon juioe, 
Which does not, yet like that produce 

A friendly coalesceiica. 

Religion should extinguish strifis, 
And make a calm of human life ; 

Bm firiends that chance to di^r 
* On points which Gtod has left at large^ 
How freely will they meet and charge 

No combatants aro stiffer. 



FlUEIfDSHIP; 18> 

To prove at lost my main intoni 
Needs no expense of argumenti 

No catting and contrivinf— 
Seeking a real friend wo aeem 
T' adopt the chemist's golden ^reMi» 

With still less hope of thriving. 
Sometimes the fault is all our owo. 
Some blemish in due time made i^Mini 

By trespass or. omission ; 
Sometimes occaaion brings to light 
* Our friend's defect long hid iJrom figlU, 

And even from suspicuML 
Then judge yourself, and prove your imh 
As circumspectly as you con, 

And, having made election, « 

BoWare no negligence of yours. 
Such as a friend bu( ill endureS) 

Enfeeble his afibction* 
That secrets are a sacred trust. 
That friends should be sincere and joot,. 

That constancy befits them, 
Are observations on the case, 
That savour much of commoB«p]«M» 

And all the world admits them. 

But 'tis not timber, lead, and stont^ 
An architect requires alone. 

To finish a fine building**** 
The palace were but half complete^ 
If he could possibly forget 

The carving and the gilding. 
The man that hails you Tom or Ja«k 
And proves by thumps upon youf 1 

How ho esteems your merit. 
Is such a friend, that one had aeod 
Be very much his friend indoada 

To pardon or to bear it. 



80 rRTENDSHt? 

As similarity of mind, 

Or something not to be defin'd* 

Firjit fixes our attention : 
So manners decent and polite, 
The same wo practis'd at first sigli 

Must save it from declenmon. 
Some act upon this prudent plan, 
^* Say little, and hear all you can." 

Safe policy, but hatefal — 
So barren sands imbibe the showV, 
But render neither fruit nor flow'r 

Unpleasant and ungrateful. 

The man I trust, if shy to me, 
• Shall find me as reserved as he, 

N% subterfuge or pleading 
Shall win my confidence again — 
I will by no means entertain 

A spy on my proceeding. 

These samples — ^for alas ! at last 
These are but samples, and a taste 

Of evils yet unmentionM — 
May prove the task a task indeed, 
In which 'tis much4f we succeed, 

However well intention*d. 

Pursue the seareh, and you will find 
Good sense and knowledge of mankind 

To be at least expedient,. 
And, after summing all the rest. 
Religion ruling in the breast 

A principal ingrecfient. 
The noblest Friendship ever shown 
The Saviour's history makes known, 

Though some have turnU and tum'd h; 
And whether being craz'd or blind. 
Or seeing with a biass'd mind, 

Have not, it seems, discem'd it 



r^:s:^ 



THE MORAUZER CQHRECTIiO. 

O Friendship ! if my soul &>t^o 
Thj dear delights while here below 

To mortify and grieve me» 
May I myself at last appear 
Unworthy, baso, and insincaie, 

Or may my friend deceive ma ! 



THE MORALIZER CORRECTER 



A HERMIT, (or if 'chance you hold 
That title now too trite and old,). 
A man, once young, who liv'd retir'd 
As hermit could have well desir'd, 
His hours of study closM at last. 
And finsh'd his concise repast, 
Stoppled his cruise, replaced his book 
Within his customary nook, • 
And, staff in hand, set forth to share 
The sober cordial of sweet air. 
Like Isaac, with a mmd applied ' 

To serious thought at evening tide. 
Autumnal rains had made it chill. 
And from the trees that friag'd his hill. 
Shades slanting at the close of day 
Chilled more his else delightful way , 
Distant a little mile he %picd 
A western bank's still sunny side. 
And right toward the favoured place 
Proceeding witl\ his nimblest pace. 
In hope to bask a little yet. 
Just reached it when the sun was set 



m THE MOHALIZER CORRECTED. 
Your hermit, joang and jorial sin ! 
Learns sometluBf from whate'er eeear»A» 
And hence, be said, my mind compote* 
The real worth of man's pursuits 
His object chosen, wealth, or fidut^ 
Or other soblonary gamoi 
Tmaginatinn to his view 
Presents it deck'd^with er'ry hoe 
That can seduce him not to spare . 
His pow*rs of best exertion there. 
But joath, health, vigour, to expend 
On ao desirable an end. 
Ere long approach life's eVning Bhadsej * 
The glow that ftncy gave it fades ; 
And, eam*d too late, it wants the grace 
That first engag'd him in the chase. 

True, answer'd an angelick guide, 
Attendant at the senior's side — 
But whether all the time it cost, 
To urge the fruitless chase be lost, 
Must be decided by the worth 
Of that which call'd his ardour fortji. 
Trifles pursu'd, whate'er th' event. 
Must cause him shame or discontent : 
A vicious object still is worse, 
Successful there he wins a curse. 
But he, whom e'en in life's last stage 
Endeavours laudable engage. 
Is paid, at least in peace of mind. 
And sense of having well design'd i 
And if, ere he attain his end, 
His sun precipitate descend, 
A brighter prize than that he meant 
Shall recompense his mere intent 
No virtuous wish can bear a date 
Either too early or too late 



J 



CATHARINA. 

▲DDBSStXD TO Nlft*. flT^fSURkH^ 
(now MRS. COVRTNXr.) 



8HE came— she is gone — we have met — 

And meet perhaps never again ; 
The son of that moment is set, 

And seems to have risen in vain 
Cathanna has fled like a dream — 
• (So vanishes pleasure, alas !) 
But has left a regret and esteem, 
' That will not sp suddenly pass. 

The last evening ramble we made, 

Caiharina, Maria, and I, 
Our progress was often delayed 

By the nightingale warbling nigh. 
We paused under many a tree. 

And much she was charmed with a tont 
Less sweet to Maria and me, 

Who so lately had wltne^*d her own. 

My numbers that day she had simg. 

And gave them a grace so divine, 
As only her musical tongue 

Could infuse into numbers of mine. 
The bmger I heard, I esteemed 

The work of my fancy the more, 
And e'ec to myself never seem'd 

80 tnneftd a poet before. 
Vol. II. 17 



194 CATIIARINA 

Though the pleasures of London exceed 

In number the days of the year, 
Catharina, did notliing impede, 

Would feel herself happier here ; 
For the doae-woTen arches of limes 

On the banks of our river, I know. 
Are sweeter to her many times 

Than waghX tbat-the city can show. 

So it is, when the mind is endu'd 

With a well-judging taste from aboT«, 
Then whether embellished or rude 

*Ti8 nature alone that we love ; 
The achievements of art may amuse, 

May even our wonder excite. 
But groves, hills, and vallies, diffuse 

A lasting, a sacred delight. 

Since, then, in the rural recess 

Catharina alone can rejoice, 
May it still be her lot to possess 

The scene of her sensible choice ! 
To inhabit a mansion remote 

From the clatter of street-pacing steods. 
And by Philomers annual note 

To measure the life that she leads. 

With her book, and her voice, and her lyr* 

To wing all her moments at home ; 
And with scenes that new rapture inspire. 

As oil as it suits her to roam ; 
She will have just the life she prefers, 

With little to hope or to fear. 
And ours would be pleasant as hers. 

Might we view her enjoying it here. 



THE FAITHFUL BIRD. 



THE green house it my. suimner seat ; 
My shrubs diaplac'd from that retrest 

Enjoy'd the open air ; 
Two Goldfinches, whose sprightly song. 
Had been their mutual solace long, 

Liv'd happy pris'ners there. 

They sang as blithe as finches sing, 
That flutter loose on golden wing, 

And frolick where they list ; 
Strangers to liberty, His true, 
But that delight they never knew 

And therefore sever miss*d. 

But nature works ia evQiy breaM, 
With force not easily suppress'd^ 

And Dick foU some desires. 
That after njany an. effort vain, 
Instructed him at length to gain 

A pass bet ween, his wires. ' 

The open windows seem'd t' invito 
The freeman to a farewell flight : 

But Tom was still confin'd : 
And Dick, alti&ongh his way vras clear 
Was much too gen'rous and sincere, 

To leave his friend behind. 

80 settling on his cage, by play. 
And chirp, and kiss-he seem'd to say, 

Tou must not live alone — 
Nor would he quit that chosen standi 
Till I, with slow and cautious hand, 

Returned him to his own 



=pc3l:«= 



196 THE NEEDLESS AliARM. 

O je^ho never taste the joya 
Of Friendriifp, Batiafied with iK>kM, 

Fandangp, hall, and rout ! 
Blush, when I tell you how a bijd, 
A prison with a friend preferred 

To liberty without 



THE NEEDLESS ALARM. 

A talIg. 

THERE is a field, through which I often pass 
Thick overspread with moss and silky grassy 
Adjoinmg close to Kilwick*s echoing wood, 
Where oft the bitch fo;c hides her hapless brood, 
Reserved to solace many a neighb'ring «qirif»*> 
That he may follow them through braka^ftd bntfv 
Contusion, hazarding of neck, or. spine, 
Which rural gentlemen €all sport di^^ns* 
A narrow brook, by rudiy banksconeeal^ 
Runs in a bottom, and divides the fidd ; 
Oaks intersperse it, that had once a head> 
But now wear crests of oven-wood instead! 
And where the land slopes ^ its w%Vi^ boiifV^ 
Wide yawns a gulf beside a ragged thorn; 
Bricks line the sides, but shiver 'd long ago^ 
And horrid brambles intertwine below ; 
A hollow scooped, I judge, in ancient time, 
For baking .earth, or burning rock to lime. 

Not yet the hawthorn bore her berries red, 
With which the fieldfare, wintry guest, is fed ; 
Nor autumn yet had brush'd from ov'ry spray, 
With her chill hand the mellow leaves away ; 



THIS NEEDLESS ALARM. IST 

But eorn was houa'd, and htaiB were ia the etaek ; 
Now therefore isaa'd forth the spotted peek^ 
With tails high nonnted, ears hong low, and threate. 
With a whcde gamut fill'd of heay'nly notes^ 
For which, alas ! my destiny severe, 
Though ears she gave-me two, gmve me no ear. 

' The sun, accomplishing his early march, 
His lamp now planted on Heay*n*8 topmost arch| 
When, exercise and air my only aim. 
And heedless whither, to that field I came, 
Ere yet with ruthless joy the happy hoond 
7old hill and dale that Reynard's track was founds 
Or with the high-rais*d horn's melodious dang 
All ^wick* and all Dinglederry* rang. 

Sheep graz'd the field ; some with soft bosom press'd 
The herb as soft, while nibbling stray'd the rest ; 
Nor noise was heard but of the hasty brook. 
Struggling, detained in many a pet^ nook. 
AH seem'd so peaceful, that, from them conyey*d, 
To me their peace by kind contagion spread. 

But when the huntsman with distended cheeky 
'Gan make his instrument of musick speak^ 
And firom within the wood that crash was heard, 
Though not a hound firom whom it burst appeared) 
The sheep reeorabent, and the sheep that graz'dy 
All huddling into phalanx, stood and gaa'd, 
Admiring, terrified, the novel stnun. 
Then cours'd the field around, and cours'd it round 

•jgain; 
But, recollecting with a sudden thought. 
That flight in otrcles urgM advanced them nought, 
They gathered close around the old pit's brink. 
And thought again— but knew not what to think. 

* Two woods bdongicg to John Tfarockinorton, Eiq. 
17* 



igS THfi KBEIHASS ALARM, 

Percehres iiv««««y lAlft^tlMt ii^«9i a < 

Wot ■■JMili aJDiW, ^»t thtdb^ and tnm, 

HaTo q>eee|i fi»r hini) and owiMitoadnfilfa «M»; 

After longr droof ht ^rfaoii Ytima idnrndant fiM, 

He hean ti» Iwite iBd flovr^ n^Mra/ip all ; 

Knows what the freahneaa of their hue implies, 

How i^lad thej cttdi the largess of ^e dde»; 

Bnty wiw preciBton nice^ Mill| the mind 

He scans of ev'rj foeomotire kind ; 

Birds of all feather, beasts of er'rj name, 

That senre maiAind, or shun them, wBd ertame; 

The looks and gestures of theb griefs «nd fears 

HaTO all artienlation in his ears ; 

He spells them tme by intoition's light, 

And needs no glossary to set him right. 

This tnrth premisM was needfbl-as a text. 
To win due -credence to what follows next. 

AwhSe they noa'd ; surveym g eT*ry &oe. 
Thou hadst snpposVl them of soperiour race ; 
Their periwigs of wool, and fears combinM 
StampVl on eaeh countenance sucli marks t)f^iii^, 
That sage they seem'd a» law^^erso^er a deub^ 
Which, puzzling long, Ht last they ^^e eut ; 
Or aeadem!«k t^ers^ teachhig youflls. 
Sure ne'er to want them, mathemfttii^k' trtttkif ; 
When thus a mattcm, sti^dier fhanfthe r^ 
A ram, the ewes and wethers sad, address^L 

Friends I we have liv'd too long. I neTonhaaid 
Sounds such as these, so worthy tot be lintf *d. 
Could 1 b^ie^, that winds i^ i^^'pent 
In Earth's ^baric womb have found at last a vwt, 
And &6m their prison-house bel<yw arise. 
With all these hideous bowlings to the skies, 
I could be much composed, nor cftould appear, 
For such a cause, to feel the slightest fear 



TH£ flEWlimm ALARM. 1»^ 

FiMinelTes hme smq, wiiAt Itee tba llmaiif ■ wiM 

All night, me timing ^mt uuiko iMf 
Or heard we that luremendaiiifl hmy etee, 
I could expeai)d the jBtlmiobQly tone; 
Should deem.' U by our .old cenfentea mmkif 
The ass ; for he, we know, has lately stray'd, 
And being lost, perhaps,, and. wand'ring wide. 
Might be auj^pos'd to olamour.for a goad^. 
But ah ! those dreadful yrils what aooi tmm hmr 
That owns a carcass and not quake for fear ? 
Uemons. produce them doubtless, blQen-claw*d, 
And fang'd with brass, the da/mons are abroad , 
i hold.it there^Mre wisest and most fit. 
That, life to save, we leap into the pit. 

Him answor'd then his loving mate and true, 
But more discreet than he, a Cambrian ewe. 

How ! leap into the pit our life to save ? 
To save our life leap all into the grave ? 
For can we find it less ? Contemplate first 
The depth how awful I falling there we burst ;. 
Or should the bnftibles, interposed, our fall 
In part abate, that h^piness were sma,ll : 
For with a race like theirs no chance I see 
Of peace or ease to creatures clad as we. , 
Meantime, noise kills not. Be it Dappldts bray, 
Or be it not, or be it whoso i( may. 
And rush those other sounds, that seem by to^igues 
Of demons utter 'd from whatever lungs, 
.Sounds are but sounds, and till the cause appear, 
We have at least commodious standing here. 
Ck>me fiend, come fury, giant, monster^ blast 
From Earth or Helf, we can but plunge at last. 

While thus she spake, I fainter heard the peals, 
For Reynard, dose attended atiiis heek 
By panting dog, tir'd man,. and spatter'd horse, 
Through mere good fortune, took a different ooursa 



=^ 



let BOADICEA. 

The 6odc grew ealm egein, end I tiie roed 
FoU*wing, that led me to my own abode. 
Much wondered that the silly eheep had found 
Such cause of terrour m an empty sound, 
80 sweet to huntsman, gen t leman, and hound. 

MORAL. 
Beware of dei^*rate steps. The darkest dajy 
Lire till to-morrow, will have pas8*d away. 



BOADICEA 



.WHEN the British warnour queen. 
Bleeding from the Roman rodS| 

Sought with an indignant mien. 
Counsel of her country's gods. 

11. 
Sage beneath the spreading oak* 

Sat the Druid, hoary chief; 
Ev'ry burning word he spoko 

Full of rage, and full of grief 

m. 

Princess ! if our aged eyes 

Weep upon thy matchless'wrongs 
rris because resentment ties 

All the terrours of our tongues. 



J 



BOADICJEA. 20J 

Rome a&Ui perish— write that word % 

Id the blood that she ha^t «pUl'd ; 
Perish, hopdeas «ad abhorr'd. 

Deep in ruin 113 in guilt 

• ■ ' T. . " 

Rome, for empire far renown'd, 
Tramples on a thousand states ; 

Soon her pride shall kiss flie ground- 
Hark ! the Gaul is at her gates ! 

VI. 
Other Romans shall arise, 

Heedless of a soldier's name > 
Sounds, not arras, sliall win the pri^e 

Harmony the path to fame. 

VU. 
Then the progeny that springe 

From the forests of o\ir land, 
Arm'd with thonder, elad with wing* 

Shall a wider world oommand. 

VIIL 

Regions Ceesar never knew 

Thy posterity almJI sway ; 
Where his eagles never flew,. 

None invincible as they. 

IX. 

Such the baFd*s prophetick words, 

Pregnant with celestial fire, 
Bending as he swept the chords 

Of his sweet but awftil lyro 

X. 

She, with all a flumarch's pride. 

Felt them in her bosom glow ; 
Rush'd to battle,.fought, and died j ^ 

Dying hurl'd them at the foe. 



202 HEROISM 

$ ^- 

Ruffians, pitUeM as proud, 

HeaT*n awards the Teng^asce t 

Empire is on us bestowed, 

Shame and ruin wait for you. 



HEROISM. 

THERE was a time when JEtna's siloAt fire 
Slept unpercoiv*d, the mountain yet entire ; 
WheUf conscious of no danger from below, 
She tower'd a cloudcapt pyramid of snow. 
No thunders shook with deep intestine sound 
The blooming groyes that girdled her around. 
Her unctuous olives, and her purple Tine% 
(Unfblt the fury of those bursting mined,) 
The peasant's hopes, and not in vain, assured, ^ 
In peace upon her sloping sides matured. 
When on a day, like that of the last doom, 
A conflagration lab'ring in her womb. 
She teem'd and heav'd with an infernal bifth, 
That shook the circling seas and solid earth. 
Dark and voluminous the vapours rise. 
And hang their horrours in the neighboring skies, 
While tiirough the stygian veil that blots the dtijj 
In dazzling streaks the vivid lightnings play. 
But O ! what muse, and in what pow'rs of song, 
Can trace the torrent as it burns along ? 
Havock and devastatioit 1:^ the van, 
•It marches o'er the prostrate works of man, 
Vi|jes, olives, herbage, forests, (disappear. 
And all the* charms of a Siciliaa r^ar 



ff*= 



HSBOl^M. 203 

Reyolviiig seaions firuiUoM as tliey pMSy 
Bee it an uninlbnii'd and idle maae ', 
Without a foU t' inrke the tiller'a cace. 
Or blade that might redeem it from deepalr* 
fet time, at length, (what will not time adiieTe/) 
Clothes it with earth, and bids the produce live* 
Once more the 0piry myrtle crowns the glade» 
And ruminating flocks enjoy the shade. 
O bliss precarious and unsafe retreats, 
O charming Paradise of short-liv'd sweets ! 
The self-same gale that wafls the fragrance roondy 
Brings to the distant ear a sullen sound : 
Again the mountain feels tH^ imprisoned foe, 
Again pours ruin on tho vale below. 
Ten thousand swains the wasted scene deplore, 
That only future ages can restore. 

Ye mpnarchs, whom the lure of .honour drawf| 
Who write in blood the merits of your cause, 
Who strike the blow, then plead your own deftnce^ 
Glory your aim, but justice your pretence ; 
Behold in i&tna*s emblomatick fires 
The mischiefs your ambitious pride inifpires. 

Fast by the stream that bounds your just domamf 
And tells you where yb have a right to reign^ 
A nation dwells, not envious of your throne, 
Studious of peace, their neighbours* and their owii» 
Bl-iated race ! how. deeply roust they me 
Their only crime, vicinity to you ! * 

The trumpet sounds, your legions swarm abroad* 
Through the ripe harvest lies their destined road . 
At ey'ry ftep beni^th their feet they tread 
The life of multitudes, a nation's bread ! 
Earth seems a garden in its lovoliost dress 
Before them, and behind a wilderness. ^ 

Famine, and Pestilence, her first-bom son^ 
Attend to finish what the sword begun * 



204 HEROISM. 

And echoinf pnxtot^ such as fieadi miglU tmokf 
And Follj pays, tMonaiA aft yonr tetany 
A calm succeedS'*-b«t Plsntyi wkh kdr traui 
Of heart-ftlt Joyt, toetdeds ii6t soon tcgtimf 
And yeaf»«r pfeifaigt MigeiiMt aftuit sfanr 
What tfeocirges acM th« gods that rale below. 
Yet man, kborions mm/ by slow degrees^ 
(Sacb is his thiMt of apnlonco and easoi) 
Plies an the sinews of ihdostrious toll, 
Gleans up the refuse of the gen'ral spoil. 
Rebuilds the towers, tltat smok*d opon the piaillr 
And the smi gBA the shining spires ftgaio* 

Increasing commerce and reviving art 
Renew tho quarrel on the conqu'ror's pert } 
And the sad lesson must be 1eam*d once mert^ 
That wealth within is ruin at the door. 
What are ye, monarehs, laurell'd heroes, si^, 
But JEtnas of the suff'ring world ye sway ? - 
SweSt Nature, stripped of her embroidered rob% 
Deplores the wasted regions of her globe^; 
And stands a witness at Truth's awful bar, 
To prove yott there destroyers as ye are. 

O place me in some Heav*n-protoeted isle,^ 
Where Peace, and Equity, and Freedom sm)Je* 
Where no Volcano pours his fiery flood, 
No crested warriour dips his plume in blood | 
Whe^ Pow*r secures what Indtutiy has ww | 
Where to succeed iti not to be tuidene; 
A land, that distattt iymm httte in vaift, 
In Britain's isle, beneath a iGreorge's v«iga * 



905) 



Oh a i|iiMtUKTpi7| BvUo WUSCH TH|( o\fvit^ or : 

•OLD AT THS AVTHOK*8 INSTANCE. 



jGrO— thou art all unfit to share 

The pleasures of this place 
'^th such as its old tenants are, 

Creatures of gentler race. 

The squirrel here his hoard provides 

Aware of wintry storms, 
And wood-peckers explore the i^dos 

Of rugged oaks for worms. 

The sheep here smooths the knotted thorn 

With frictions of her fieece ; 
And here I wander eve and mom. 

Like her, a friend to peace. 

Ah ! — ^I could pity .thee exil'd 

. From this secuue retreat — 

I would not lose it to be styl'd 

The happiest of the great. 

But thou canst taste no ci^m delight ; < 

Thy pleasure is to show 
Thy magnanimity in fight. 

Thy prowess— therefore go- 

* 

I care not whether east or norths 

So I no more may find thee ; 
The angry muse thus sings thoe fortli. 

And claps the gate behind Ihce. 
Vot. II. 18 



(206) 



ANNUS MEMORABILIS, 1789- 
Warmv ni coimxiioRATioir of his MAJXfTi *f 

HAFPV RXCOTERT. 



I RANSACK'D for a theme of son^, 
Moch ancient chronicle, and long ; 
I read of bright embattled fields, 
Of trophied helmets, spears, and shields. 
Of chiefs, whose single arm coold boast 
Prowess to disupate a host ; 
Through tomes of fable and of dream 
I sought an eligible theme. 
Bat none I found, or found them shar'd 
Already by some happier bard. 

To modem times, with Truth to guide 
My busy search, I next applied ; 
Here cities won, and fleets dispersed, 
Urg*d loud a claim to be rehearsed, 
Deeds of unperishing renown, 
Our fathers* triumphs and our own. 

Thiy, as the bee, from bank to bow'r, 
Assiduous dps at ev'ry flow*r. 
But rests on none, till that be found, 
Where most nectareous sweets abound--" 
So I, from ^eme to theme displayed 
In many a page historick stray 'd. 
Siege afler siege, fight after fight 
Contemplating with small delight, 
(For feats of sanguinary hue 
Not always glitter in my view,) 



ANNUS MEMORABfLlS. 207 

Till, settling on the current year, 
I found the far-sought treasure near ; ; 
A theme for poetry dlvliie, 
A theme t' ennoble even mine. 
In memorable eighty-nine. 

. The spring of eighty-nine shall be 
An era chcrish'd long by me, 
Which joyful I will oft record^ 
And thankful at my frugal board ; 
For then the clouds of eighty-eight 
That threatened England's trembling state 
With loss of what she least could spare, 
Her sovereign's tutelary care, 
One breath of Heaven, that cried — Restoxe'i 
Chas'd, never to assemble more ; 
And far tlie richest crown on eyth, 
If valued by its wearer's worth, 
The symbol of a righteous reign 
Sat fast on George's brows again. 

Then peace and joy again possess^ 
Our Queen's long agitated breast ; 
Such joy and peace as can bo known 
By BufiTrers like herself alone, 
Who, losing, or supposing lost. 
The goo4 "on earth they valu'd most, 
For that dear sorrows' sake forego 
All hope of happiness below. 
Then suddenly regain the prize, * 

And flash thanksgivings to the skies ! 

O Queen of Albion, queen of isles * 
Since all thy tears wore chang'd to smiley 
The eyes that never saW thee shino 
Witli joy not unallied to thine, 
Transports rtbt chargeable ^^ith art 
Illume the land's remotest part, 



!fc: 



2r» HYMN. 

And strangers to the air of courts, 
Both in tlioir toils and at thci^ sportt. 
The happiness of answerM ptay'rs, 
That gilds thy features, show in thell*. 

If they who on thy state attend, 
Awe-struck, before thy presence bend, 
*T\b but the natural effect 
Of grandeur that ensures respect ; 
But she is something more than queen, 
Who is belov'd where never seen. 



HYMN, 

For the use of the Sunday School at Oimef, 

HEAR, Lord, the song of praise and pray'r 

In heav'n thy dwelling place, 
From infants made the publick caie, 

And tahght to seek thy face. 

Thanks for thy word and for thy day, 
And grant us, we implore, 
' Never to waste, in sinful play 
Thy holy sabbaths more. 

Thanks that we hear — but O impart 
• To each desires sincere. 
That we may listen with our hearty 
And learn as well as hear. 

For if vain thoughts the minds engage 

Of older far than wey 
What hope that at our heedless age. 

Our minds should e'er be free f 



STANZAS. soft 

Much hope, if thou our spirits take 

Under thy gracious sway, 
Whi^anst the wisest wiser make^ 
.And babes as wise as they. 

Wisdom and bliss thy word bestows, 

A sun that ne'er declines, 
And be thy mercies shower'd oa those, . 
. "Who plac*d us whcr9 it shines. 



STANZAS 



hthjomed to the Yearly BUI of Mortality of ike Parish 
of JiU'Saints, J{ortliampton^* Anno Domini 1787. 



Pallida Mors, aquo pulsat pede pauperum iahemat 

Regumque turres. Henice. 

Pale Death with equal foot strikes wide ^e door 
Of xoyal halls, and hovels of the poor. 



WHILE thirteen moons saw smoothly run 

The Nen'd barge-laden wave, 
All these, life's rambling journey done, * 

Have found their home, the grave. 

Was man, (frail always) made more frail 

Than in foregoing years ? 
Did famine or did -plague prevail. 

That so much death appears ? 

* Composed for John Cos, parish clerk of NortbaxnpUMi. 



210 BILL OF MORTALITY 

No ; incse wore vig'rous as their sires, 

Nor plague nor famine catne ; 
This a'JJiual trfente Death requires, * 

And never waves his claiin. 

• Like crowded (brest-trijes we staiid, 
And some are mark'd to fall ; 
The axe will smite at Grod's command, r 
And soon shall smite us all. 

Green as the bay-tree, ever green, 

With its new foliage on, 
The gay, the thoughtless, have I seen, 

I pass'd — and they were gone. 

Read, ye that run, the awful truth, 
With which I charge my page ; 

A worm is in the bud of youth, 
And at the root of age. 

No prtseht health can^health ensure 

For yet an hour to come ; 
No med'cine, though it oft can cure. 

Can always balk the tomb. 

And O ! th%t humble as my lot. 

And scom'd as is my strain, 
These truths, though known^ too much for^otf 

I may not teach in Yam, 

So prays your clerk with all his heart. 

And ere he quits the pen, 
Begs you for once to take his part, ■ 

And answer all — ^Amen ! 



J 



(211) 
ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, 

FOk THB TEAR 1788 



Qu^x4idestf memento 
Commoner e aquHS. QBterafiwmiaU 
Bkuferunter, HotMe. 

Improve the present hour, for all heride 
It a mere feather on a torrent's tide. 



COULl) I, from Heav'n inspired, ai soro prenge 
To whom the rising year sh^l prove his last, 

As I can niUDft>er in my punctual page. 
And item down the victims of the past ; 

How each would trembling wait the mournful sheet 
On which the press might stamp him next to die. 

And reading here his sentence, how replbte 
With anxious meaning, heavenward turn his eye ! 

Time then would seem more precious than the Joys 
In which he sports away the treasure now ; • 

And pray'r more seasonable than the noise 
Of drunkards, or the musick-drawing bow. 

Thftn doubtless many a trifler, on the brink 
Of this world's hazardous and headlong shore, 

Forc'd to a pause, would feel it good to think, 
Told that his setting sun must rise no more. 



213 BILL OF MORTALITY. 

Ah self-deceiv'd ! Could I prophetick say 
Who next is fated, and who next to fall. 

The rest might then seem privileged to play ; 
But naming mnUf the voice now speaks to ALL. 

Observe the dappled foresters, bow light 

They bound and airy o'er the sunny glade- 
One falls — the rest, wide scattered with affiright, * 
Vanish at once into tho darkest shade. 

Had we their wisdom, should we, often wam'd, 
Still need repeated warnings, and at last, . 

A thousand awful admonitions scorn'd, 
Die self-accus'd of life run all to waste ? 

Sad waste ! for which no after-thrift atones. 
The grave admits no cure for guilt or sin ; 

Dew-drops may deck the turf that hides the bones. 
But tears of godly ^ grief ne*er flow within. 

Learn then ye living ! by the mouths be taught 
Of all these sepulchres, instructors true. 

That, soon or late, death also is your lot, 
And the next opening grave ncay yawn for yoir 



(213) 
ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, 

FOE THE YEAR 1789. 



^^laddaqw ibi demum morU quietit. ViAo. 
Thero calm at length he breith'd Ua aottl aiv«y. 



« O MOST dfelightftd hotir by xnaii 

Experienced hbre below, 
The honlr that terminatos his epin^ 

His foUji and his wo ! 

Worlds should not bribe me back to tread 

Again life's dredry waste, 
To see agua my day overspread 

With all the gloomy past. 

My home henceforth is in the skies. 

Earth, seas, and smi, adieu ! 
All Hoav*n unfolded to my eyes, 

I have no sight for you." 

So spakp Aspasio, firm possess*^ 

Of faith's supporting rod, 
Then breath'd his soul into its rest. 

The bosom of his God. 

He was a man among the fcvr 

Sincere on virtue's side ; 
And all his stre'ngth from Scripture driB#« 

To hourly use applied. 



214 BILL OF, MORTALITY. 

That rule he priz'd, by tj^at he fear*dy 
lid hated, hop'd, and lov'd ;. 

Nor ever frown'd, or sad appear*d 
But when his heart had rov*d. 

For he was frail as thou or I| 

And evil felt within : 
But when he felt it heav*d a sigh, 

And loath*d the thought of sin. 

Such liv*d Asposio ; and at last 
CaU*d up from Earth to Heav'n, 

The gulf of death triumphant paM*d^ 
By gales of blessing driv'n. 

Hit joys be minef each Reader cries, 
When my last hour arrives : 

They shall bo yours, my verse replies, 
Such only |)e your lives • 



ON A SIMILAR OCCASION, 

FOR TUB YEAR 1790. 



JVs €cmmoneniim recta speme. Bnchinin. 

Despise not my good counsel. 



HE who sits from day to day, 
Where the prisoned lark is hung, 

Heedless of his loudest lay, 
Hardly knows that ho has sung. 



BILL OF MORTALITY. 215 

Where the watchman in his round 

Nightly lifts his voice on high. 
None, accustom'd to the sound, 

Wakes the sooner for his cry. 

So your verseman I and clerk, 

Yearly in my song proclaim 
Death at hand— yourselves his marie- 

And the foes unerring aim. 

Duly at my time I come, 

Publishing to all aloud — 
Soon the grave must be your home, 

And your only suit, a shroud. 

But the monitory strain, 

Ofl repeated in your ears, 
Seems to sound too much in vain, 

Wins no notice, wakes no fears. 

Can a truth, by all eoi^esa'd 

Of such magnitude and weight, 
Grow, by being oft impress'd, 

Trivial as a parrot's prate ? 

PleaiRire's call attention t^Ibs^ 

Hear it often as we may ; 
New as ever seem our sins, 

Though committed every day. 

Death and Judgment, Heaven and Hell-^ 

These alone, so often heard. 
No more move us than the bell. 

When some stranger is interred. 

O then, ere the turf or tomb 

Cover us from every eye, 
Spirit of instruction come. 

Make us learn, that we must die. 



ON A SIMILAR QCCASXp^, 

FOR TQ« YVAA 1792. 



PWtx, gtd pottdt rerum cognqseere eaustu^ 
Jitgue metus omnes et iTuxorabiU fatum 
Subjecit pedibusj strepitumque Acheromtis atari ! 

Virg 
Happy the mortal, who has tracM effects 
To their first cause, cast fear beneath his (eet^ 
And death, and roaring HelPs Toracious fire^ ^ 



THANKLESS for favours from on high 

Man thinks he fades too sp^ \ 
Though 'tis hif privilege to diO} 

Would he improve the lK>on. . . * 

But he, not wise enough to scan 

His best concerns aright, 
Would gladly stretch life's little span 

To ages, if he might. 

To ages in a world of pain, * 

To ages, where he goes 
Gall'd by affliction's heavy chain, 

And hopeless of repose. 

Strange fondness of the human heart, 

Enamour'd of its harm ! 
Strange world, that costs it so much smasrt,^ 

And still has pow'r to charm. 



fr= 



BILL OF MI»TAL1TY. 817 

Wbenee has the world her magick pow*r i 

Why deem we death a foe ? 
Becoil firom weary life's hest honr^ 

AM ^iMt It^gqr woii . 

The eante is Conscience— Ccmsdenoe oft 

Her tale o^ guilt t0aeim^ 
Her T<»ce is terrible, though soft, 

Ahd dread of death ensues. 

Thea, anxious to be longer spar'dy 
, Man loouras his fleeting hieatli: 
All evils then seem light, oom|^'4 
With the approach of Death. 

*TiB Judgment shakes him, there'ii IImi feat 

That prompts the .wish to sti^ : 
He has incurred a hmg aireai*) 

And must despair {o pay. 

Pay /—follow Christ, and all is paid . 

His death your peace ens«re« ; 
Think on the grave wheie he fnm hML^ 

And calm descend to your$. 
Vol. n. l« 



(218) 

ON A SIMILAR OGGASiOir, 
worn tmm n^m 1793. 



IM merigmUtm koe sie mut senteniia, wl eonservetiwr, 

€ke. dB Lb;. 
But let «• all wmem in thb one MatiaMat, thil 
Uiiiift Mered bo iiiTMate. 

Ho Ktos, who 1x708 to God alono 

And oB aro doiid booido y 
For other soaroo than God ie aoae 

Whence life can bo anpf lied. * 

To Uto to God is to requite • 

Hie lore aa beet we aui^:* 
To make his precepts oar delight^ 

His proousio oitt stay. • 

Bat life, within a narrow rin^^ 

Of ^ddy joys comprifl*d, 
Is fiibely nam'd, and no saeh thing, • 

Bat rather death disguis'd. ^ 

Can W& IB them doserTcthe name, , 

Who only lire to prove 
For what poor toys they can disclaim 

An endless life above. 

Who maeh diseased, yet nothing feel ; 

Much menac*d, nothing dread , * 

Have wounds, which only God can heal* 

Ytt never ask his aid ? 



BILL OF MORTALITt. 219 

Who deem his bouse a umIom plaoe, 

Faith want of common eenie ; . 
And ardour in the Chriatian race, 

A hypocrite's pretence ? 

Who trample order ; and the day, 

Which €k>d asserts his own, 
Dishonour with unhallow'd play, 

And worship chance alone ? 

If scorn of God's commands, impcess'd 

Qb word and deed, imply 
The better part of man unbless'd 

With life that cannot die ; 

Such want it, and that want nnew^ 

Till man resigns his brealb, 
Speaks him a criminal, assur'd 

Of everlasting death. 

Sad period to a pleasant course I 

Tet so will God repay 
Sabbaths profan'd without lemone^ 

And mercy east away. 



(280) 
INSCRIPTION, 

FOB TMH TOMB CV MR. HUIICTOII. 



PAUSE here, and think : a monitorjr thjvob 
Demands one moment of thy fleeting time. 

Consult life's silant clock, thy bounding v«m ; 
Seems it to say — ^^ Health here has kbg to veigD ?" 
Hast thou the vigour of thy youth ? an eye 
That beams delight ? a heart untaught to sigh 7 
Yet fear. Touth, ofttimes healthful and a,t ease, 
Anticipates a day it never sees ; 
And many a tomb, like Uamiltan'gf aloud 
Exclaims, " Prepare thee for an early shrQud.**, . 



EPITAPH ON A HARE. 



HERE lies, whom hound did ne*er pursuey 
Nor swifter grayhound follow, 

Whose foot ne'er tainted morning dew. 
Nor ear heard huntsman's halloo, • 

Old Tlney, surliest of his kind. 
Who, nurs'd with tender care, 

Audio domestick bounds confin'd, 
Was still a wild Jack-hvre 



EPITAPH ON A HARE. 
Tliough duly firom my hand he took 

His pitUnce ev'rj night. 
He did it with a jealous lode, 

And, when he could, would bite» 

His diet was of wheaten bread. 
And milk, and oats, and straw; 

Thistles, or lettuces instead. 
With sand to scour his maw. 

On twigs of hawthorn he regal'd, 
. On pipp^'s russet peel. 
And, when his juicy salads fail'd, 
Slic'd carrot pleased him weU. 

A turkey carpet was his lawn 

Whereon he lov'd to bound. 
To skip and gambol like a fawn, 

And swing hi» rump around. 

His firisking was at ev'ning hours. 

For then he lost his fear, 
But most before approaching showers, 

Or when a storm drew near. 

Eight years and five round rolling moons 

He thus saw steal away. 
Dosing out all his idle noons. 

And ev'ty night at play. 

I kept him fiv his humour's sake, 

For he would oft beguile 
My heart of thoughts, that made it ache, 

And force me to a smile. 

But now beneath this walnut shade 

He finds his long last home, 
And waits, in snug concealment laid, 

Till gentler Puss shall come 
19 •* 



221 



222 EPITAPAiUM ALTERUM. 

He, still more aged, feels the shocks, 

From which no care can save, 

And, partner once of llnej's box, 

Must soon partake his grave. 



EPITAPHIUM ALTKiUW; 

'Bic etiam jacet, 

Qui totum novenniam vixit, 

Puss. 

Siste paulisper. 

Qui prseterituirus os, 

Et tecum sic reputa — 

Hunc neque canis veiiaticus, 

Nee plumbum missile, 

Nee laqueus, 

Nee imbres nimu, 

Confccere : 

Tamen mortuus est — 

EVmpriar ego. . 



(223) 

The following account of«toe treatment of his 
habas was inserted by mr. cowper in the gen- 
tleman's magazine, whence it is transcribed* 



IN the year 1774, being much indisposed both in 
mind and body, incapable of diverting myself either 
with company Or books, and yet in a condition that 
made some diversion necessary, I was glad of any 
thing that would engage my attention withont fa- 
'tiguing it The children of a neighbour of mine had 
a leveret given them lor a plaything ; it was at that 
time about three months old. Understanding better 
how to tease tlie poor creature than to feed it, and 
soon becoming weary of their charge, they readily con- 
sented that their father, who saw i*, pining and grow- 
ing leaner every day, should offer it to my acceptance. 
I was willing enough to take the prisoner under my 
protection, perceiving that, in the management of such 
an animal, and in the attempt to tame it, lyaliould find 
just that sort of employment which my case required. 
It was soon known among thp neighbours that I waifi 
pleased with the present ; and the consequence was, 
that in a short time I had as many leVeretd c^^ed to 
me as would have stocked a padcb)ck. I undertook the 
care of three, which it is necessary that I should hero 
distinguish by the- names I gare them^-— Puss, Tiney, 
and Bess. Notwithstanding the two feminine appellm* 
tives, I must inform you that they were all males. Im- 
mediately commencing carpenter, I built them houses 
to sleep in ; 6ach had a separate apartment, so contriy* 
ed, that their ordure would pajs through the bottom 
of it ; an earthen pan placed under each received what* 
floeyor fell, which being duly emptied -and washed) 
they were thu^kept perfectly sweet and clean. In tho 
daytime tliey had the range of a hall, and at night re* 



L 



9 
( S224 ) 

tiredi each to his own bea, never intrudhig into that of 
another. 

Puss grew presently familiar, i^ould leap into my 
lap, raise himself upon his hinder feet, and bite the 
hair from my temples. He would suffer me to take 
him up, and to carry him about in my arms, and has 
more than once fallen fast asleep upon my knee. lie 
was ill three days, during which time I nursed him, 
kept him apart from his fellows, that- they might not 
molest him, (for, like many other wild animals, they 
persecute cme of their own species that is sick,) and by 
instant care, and trying him with a variety of. herbs, 
restored him to perfect health. No creature could be 
mote grateful than my patient aflcr his recovery ; a 
•element which he most significantly expressed by 
licking my hand, first the back pf it, then the palm, 
then every finger separately, then between all the fin- 
gers, as if anxious to leave no part of it unsalutcd ; a 
ceremony which he never performed but once again 
upon a similar occasion. Finding him extremely tract- 
able, I made- it my custom to carry him always afler 
breakfast into the garden, where he hid himself gene- 
rally under the leaves of a cucumber vine, sleeping or 
chewing the cud till evening : in the leaves also of 
that vine ho found a favourite repast. I had not long 
habituated iiim to this taste of liberty, before he began 
to be impatient for the return of the time when he 
might enjoy it. He would invite me to the garden by 
drumming upon my knee, and by a look of such ox- 
pressicm, as it was not possible to misinterpret. If this 
rhetorick did not immediately succeed, he would take 
tlie skirt of my eoat between his te^th, and pull at it 
with all his force. Thus Puss might be said to be per* 
fectly tamed, the shynr^ss of his nature was done away, 
and on the whole it was visible by many symptoms 
which 1 have not room to omunerate, that he was hap 
]^er in human society than when shut up with his na 
tnral companions. 



N«t 80 Tfnej ; Qpoa lum tho kindert treatment bad 
ftot the least effect. He, too, was sick, and in his sick* 
Bess had an equal share of my attention ; hot if aflei 
his recovery I took the liberty to stroke him, he would 
fnmt, strike with his ^e feet, spring forward, and 
^e. He was, however, very entertaining in his way ; 
even his snrliness was matter of mirth ; and in his 
^y he preserved snch an air of gravity, and perform- 
ed his feats with such a solemnity of manner, that is 
him, too, I had an agreeable c<»npamon. 

Boss, who died soon after he was full grown, and 
whose death was occasioned by his being turned into 
his oox, which had been washed, while it was yet damp, 
was a hare of great humour and droll^ryj Fuss was 
tamed by gentle usage ; Tiney was not to.be tamed at 
all : ami Bess had: a courage Und confidence that made 
him tame from the beginning. I always admitted them 
into the parlour afler supper, when the carpet afford- 
ing their feet a firm hold, they would frisk, and bound 
and play a thousand gambols, in which Bess, being re- 
markably strong and fearless, was always superiour to 
U»e rest, and proved himself the Vestris of the party. 
One evening the cat, being in the room, had the hardi- 
ness to pat Bess upon the cheek, an indignity which 
he resented by drumming upon her back with such 
violence, that the cat was happy to escape from under 
his paws, and hide herself. 

I describe these animals as having each a charao* 
ter of his own. Buch they were in fact, and theii 
countenances wore so expressive of tliat liharacter, 
that, when I looked only on the face of either, 1 im- 
mediately knew ithich it was. It is said that a shep<* 
herd, however numerous his Aock, soon becomes so 
familiar with their features, that lie can, by that indi* 
cation only, distinguish each from all the rest ; and 
yet, to a common observer, the difference is hardly 
perceptible. I doubt not that the same discr'miination 
in thii cast of countenances would be discoverable in 



(280; 
Imtos, waA am peniaaded that among a thousalicl' of 
ibem, no tv^:^ could be founcl exactly aimUar ; a eirccui- 
^ance litUe imspQcted by thow who have not bad q»> 
portunity to observe it. Theae creatures iiaTo >a sii^ 
gukr sagacity in discovering the mimrtest altenrtieB 
that is made in the j>iace to which tliey are accustoB^ 
ed and instantly ap|>ly their nose to the exannnatioa 
of a new object. A small hole being burnt in the ear** 
pet, it was mended with a patch, and that patch in a 
moment underwent the strictest scrutiny. They seem, 
too, to be very much directed by the smell in the choice 
of ihcir favourites ; to some persons, though they saw 
them daily, they could never be reconciled, and woi^ 
even scream when they attempted to touch th^m ; but 
a miller cpming in, engaged their affections at once 
his powdered coat had *charms that were irresistible. 
It is no wonder that my intimate acquaintance with 
these specimens of the kind, has taught me to hold the 
sportsman's amusf^ment in abhorrence : he JittJe knows 
what amiable creatures he persecutes, of what grati- 
tude they are capable, how cheerful they are in their 
spirits, what enjoyment they have of life, and that| 
impressed as they seem with a peculiar dread of man, 
it is only because man gives them peculiar cause fer it. 

That I may not be tedious, I will just give a short 
summary of these articles of diet that suit them best 

I take it to be a general opinion that they graze, but 
it is an erroneous one ; at least grass is not their sta- 
ple ; they seem rather to use H medicinally, soon quit* 
ting it for leaves of almost any kind. Sowthistle, dan- 
delion, and lettuce, are their, favourite vegetables, es- 
pecially the last. I discovered hy accident that fina 
white sand is in great estimation with them ; I tnip- 
pose as a digestive. It happened that I was cleaning 
a bird cage while the bares were with me : I placed a 
pot Ailed with such sand upon the floor, which, being 
at once directed to by a strong instinct, they devoured 
voraciously ; since tlint i'niw I have generally taken 



^827) 
i to.aee ij^jtn well supplied with it. They account 
f^eeii com a delicacy, both blade and stalk, but the ear 
they addom eat: atraw of any kind, especially wheat 
atcaw, is axu)4her of their dainties; they will feed 
freedily t^ii oats, but if foniie^ed with «lean straw 
never want them y it serrea thera also for a bed, and 
jf shaken up daily, will be kept sweet and dry ibr a 
considerable time. They do not Indeed require aro- 
matick hnbs, but wilf eat a stMU quantity of them 
•with great reliiA, aikt are particularly fbnd of the plant 
eallfid musk : they seem to resemble sheep in this, that 
if thflir pasture be too succulent, they are Very subject 
to the rot : to pj^erent which) I always made bread 
their principal nourishment, and, filling a pen with it 
cut into small squares, placed it every 'erening in their 
chambers, for they feed only at evening, and in the 
night : during the winter, when vegetables were not 
to be got, I mingled this mess of .bread with shreds of 
carrot, adding to it the rind of apples cut extremely 
thin ; for^ though they are fond of the paring, the ap- 
ple itself disgusts them. These, hoiMrever, not being 
a sufficient substitute for the juice of summer herbr, 
they must at this time be supplied with water ; bdt so 
plac^, that «they camtot overset it into their beds. I 
must not omit, that occasionally they are much pleas- 
ed with twigs of hawthorn and of the common brier, 
eating even the very wood whe» it is of considerable 
thickness. 

Bess, I have said, died young ; Tiney lived to be 
nine years old, and died at last. I have reason to 
think, of some hurt in his loins by a fall : Puss is still 
living, and has just completed his tenth year, disco 
vering no signs of decay, nor even of age, except that 
he is grown more discreet and less frolicksome than 
he was. I cannot conclude without observing, that 1 
have lately introduce<^ a dog to his acquaintance— a 
spaniel that had never seen a hare, to a hare that had 
never seen a spaniel. I did it with ffrcat caution, bul 



(288) 
there was no real need of it. Pofls discorered no to- 
ken of fear, nor Marquis the least syinptom of hoatiBtj. 
There is, therefore, it should seem, no xmioral antqia- 
thy between dog' and hare, bat the parsaii or the one 
occasions the flight of the other, and the dog pnrraes 
becaose he is trained to it ; they eat bread at the same 
time 01;^ of the sune hand, and are in all jtepects 
lociable and friendly. 

I should not do complete ju^ce to my 8id>ject, dii 
I not add, that they have no iU scent faekinging to* 
them; that they are indefictigably nieo in keeping 
themselves clean, for which purpose nature has fiir- 
nished them with a brush under eft^fix>t; nnd that 
they are never infested by any vermin. 
May 28, 1784. 



Mewufraaukm/ounfi among Mr, Cov^er'9 popen, 

Tuesday, March 9, 1786. 
This day died^Mior Puss, aged eleven yeaxAoieveii 
months. Ho died between twelve and one at noon, et 
mere old age, and apparently without pain* 



£2VD OF VOL. U. 



1>0EMS, 

BY • ' 

WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. 

TOOETHBR WITH HIS 

POSTHUMOUS POETRY, 

AND 

A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE 
BY JOHN JOHNSON,-LL. D. 

THREE VOLUMES fN ONE. 

NEW EDITION. 

BOSTON 

PHILLIPS, S.AMPSON, & CO 

110 WASHINGTON STREET 

1853. 



BIGHT HONOURABLK 



EARL SPENCER. 



MY hOBDf 

A GsiTEBJLL request having encoura|red me to liKBcoBie 
the Editor of a more complete collection of the poet- 
humous compoaitiona of my revered relation, the poot 
CowPEii, than has hitherto appeared, I consider it aa 
my duty to the deceased, to inscribe the volume that 
contains them to his exalted friend, by whom the ge- 
nius of the poet was as justly appreciated, as the virtues 
of the moralist were effectually patronized. It would 
be impertinent in me to attempt any new encomium 
on a writer so highly endeared to every cultivated 
mind in that country which it was the favourite exer- 
cise of his patriotick spirit to describe and to celebrato : 
but t may be allowed \q observe, that one <^ tho few 
additions inserted in tliis collection will be particular- 
ly welcome to every reader of sensibility, as an eulogy 
on that attractive quality so gracefuUy visible in all 
the writings of Cowper. 

Permit me to close this imperfect tribute of my re- 
lict, by saying, it is my deep sense of those impor- 
tant services, for which the afflicted poet was indebted 
to the kindness of Lord Spehcer, that impels me to 
the Hberty I am now taking, of thus publickly declar- 
ing myself 

Your Lordship's 
Highly obliged, and 
Very faithful servant, 
JOHN JOHNSON. 



PREFACE. 



It if incumbent oh me to. apprize the reader tiiat, 
by far the greater part of the poems to ^hich I have 
now the honour to introduce him, have been already 
published by Mr. Hayley. That endeared friend of 
the depeased poet having enridied his copious and 
faithful life of him with a large collection of his minor 
pieces soon after his death, and haying rinee gtyen to 
the world a distinct edition of his Tramdstions from the 
Latin and Italian rerses of Milton, erery thing seesn- 
ed to be accomplished that the merits and memory of 
a poet, so justly popultf as Cowper, appeared to re- 
quire. But of kte years a fresh and detached coHec* 
tioB of aU his poems bentg wished for by his friends, I 
was flattered by their request, that I ynvM present 
them to the public as the editor of hts third poetical 
volume. 

Having accepted this honourable invitation, my 
first care was to assemble as many of the editions dt 
the two former volumes as I could possibly meet with, 
that nothing might be admitted into their progeeted 
companion which the publick already possessed ts 
tkom. With one slight exception I believe I secdred 
that desirable point. My next employment was tt 
make sueh a copious but careful selection from tas 
mipublished poetry of Cowper, which I happily pos* * 
sessed, and which I hod only imparted to a few fnends^ 
as, while it gratified his admirers, might in no inataoiB 
detract from his poetical reputation. I should tremUo 
for the hazard to whidi my partiality to the compo- 
bitions of my beloved relation exposed me in dischtfg* 
ing this part of my office, if I did not hope to find in 



PREFACE. 5 

the reader a fondness of the same kind > and if 1 
were not assured that a careless or slovenly habit, in 
the production of his verses, has never been imputed 
to the author of the Task. 

The materials of the volume being thus provided, 
the ascertainingr their dates was my remaining con- 
cern. In a few instances I found them affixed to the 
poems by their author ; a few more I collected' from 
intimations in his letters ; but in several, the difficulty 
of discovering them pressed upon myself. This was 
especially the case with the very interesting additional 
poem addressed by Cowper to an unknown lady on 
reading " the Prayer for Jndifferetice." Of the ex- 
istence of £hese verses I had not even heard till I was 
called on to superintend the volume, in which they 
make their first publick appearance. 1 am inclined to 
believe, that during the ten years of my domestick 
intercourse with the poet, they had never occurred to 
his recollection. He appears to have imparted them 
only to his highly valued and aifeetionate'relative, the 
Reverend Martin Madan, brother of the late Bishop 
of Peterborough, from whose Ckvmmon-plaoe Book' 
they were transcribed by his daughter, and kindly 
cotnmuiiieated to me. There being nothing in Mr. 
Madan's copy of these verses from which their date 
could be inferred, it was only by a minute oomparison 
of the poem itself with the various local and mental 
circumstances, which his life exhibits, that I was en- ^ 
abled' to discover the year of their production. The 
labour attending this and other instances of research, 
in which I have been obliged to engage for the pur-' 
pose of ascertaining the dates of several minor poems, 
will be best understood by those who are practically 
acquainted with similar investigations. Afler all, 
there ate some of which no diligence of mine could 
develope the exact time ; but with the greater number 
I trust their proper order of succession has been care 
fully secured to them. * 



6 I'REFACE. 

From tliis brief account of tho volume befoie the • 
reader, I pass on to the memoir of its author. Had I not 
alrcadj embarked in a preparation of the poems, wlien 
I was requested to prefix a sketch, of the poet's life, an 
unaffected distrust of my ability to achieve it would 
have precluded me from making such an attempt ; but 
a peculiar interest in these relicks of Cowper having 
been wrought into my feelings, while I was arranging 
them for the press, I was unwilling to shrink from a 
proposed task, by which I might hope to contribute, in 
some degree, to the "expanding renown of my revered 
relation. I therefore venture to advance on the only 
path in the wild field of biography, in which my hum- 
ble steps could accompany Cowper, namely, that in 
which I could simply 

: ' — "retrace 

(As in a map, the voyager his course,) 

The windings of his way through many years.'' 

lata thsM pa& il nugM ■ena pTesamptaotu in me to 
invite thosD yrkam my kind and coneAant friend, Mr. 
Haylsy, faa* mftdo intknsteiy ao^nunt^ with Cowper, 
by his extensiTe and jnot biography ; btot to suck 
readers as ha{$»en not to ImTe penusid fats ibo«« copioiai 
work, I may venture to reoemmend the ftHowisg 
^ "Slup of Cowper^ Lift,'' as possessing one of itk 
prime chMracteristieks, nmm^, fidelity of delineatio% 

Bedford^ jjpril, 1815 



CONTENTS, 



Sketch of the Author's life - - 13 

Verses written on finding the Heel of a Shoo • 62"^ 
Stanzas on the First Publication of Sir Charles* 

Grandison - - « - 63 

Epis^ to Robert Lloyd, Esq. - - 64 

Fifth Satire of the First Book of Horace - 67 

Ninth Satire of the First Book of ttoraca 74 

Address to Miss , on reading tlM prayer fbt 

Indifibrence • • • . 79 

Translation from Virgi! ... 82 

Ovid. TriBt. Lib. V. Eleg . XH. - - 94 

A Tale fonnded on a Fact '.^ ^ .96 

Translation of a Simile in Para^M LosI • 98 

Translation of DrydenV Epigram on Milton . ib. 
To the/Rey. Mr. Newton, on his Swtamfiww 

Ramsgate • -* • * 99 

Cove Abased - * - - ib. 

Poetical Epistle to Lady Anitoa- - - 160 

From a letter to ther Rev. Mr. Newton* • 104 - 
Tlie Colnbriad . - - -105 

On Friendship - ... - 106. 
^n the Loss of the Royal George 
In Submersionem Navigii, cni Georgios Regalii 

Nomen, indltum - - • 114 

Song on Peace - - * - - 115- 

, Song, written at the request of Lady Ansten 116 

Verses from a Poem entitled Valediction - 117 

Iri Brevitatem Vitte Spatii Hominibus concessi 119 

On the Shortness of Human life - - ' ib. 






B CONTENTS. 

^Epitaph on Johnson ... 120 

To Miss C , on her Btrdi-day - • ib. 

Gratitnde - - - - - 121 

Th^Flatting Mill - - • • 123 

Lines for a Memorial of Ashley Cowperi Esq. 124 

On the Queen's Visit to London - - ib. 

The Cock-fighter's Garland ... 127 
On the Qenefit received by his Majesty from 

Sea-Bathing - • - . 130 

Hor. Lib. L Ode IX. - - • ib. 

•Hor. Lib. L Ode XXXVn. - • 131 

Hor. B. L Ode XXXVm. - - - 132 

Hor. Lib. n. Ode XVL ... ib. 

Latin Verses to the Memory of Dr. Lloyd - 134 

The same in English ... 135 

To Mrs. Throekmorton - - * - 136 
Inscription for a Stone erected at the sowing of 

a Grove of Oaks - - - 137 

Another, for a Stone erected on a similar occasioo 1 38 

Hymn for the Sunday School at Olney - ib. 
On the late indecent Liberties taken with the 

Remains of Mitton • - • 139 

To Mrs. King 141 

Anecdote of Homer - - - 142 
In Memory of the late J. Thornton, Esq. - 144 
The Four Ages ... - 143» 
The Judgment of the PoeU • • - 147 
To Charles Diodati , • - - 150 
On the Death of the University J)eadle at Cam- 
bridge - . - - • • 153 
On tfee Death of the Bishop of Winchester - 154 ^ 
To his Totor, Thomas Young - - 157* 
On tlio Approach of Spring - - - 101 
To Charles Diodati - - - 1G5 
* Conipo.^ed in the Author^s Nineteenth Yoa^ - l('3 
ICpiLTain. — On IImj Inreutor of Guns - ' ITI 
KpI -rajii — To Luon«»ra, tHii«fiii}r at lionw • ITu* 
Ivr-TSMJi - " • '• •. • ,it« . . • . iJj 



The Cottager and kis Jjandlord • - 173 

To Chtistiana, Queen «€ Sweden - - ib. 

• On the Death of a FhyBiciaa • - 174 

Ob the Death of the Bishop of Elj • K6 

Nature unimpaired by Tioi* - • - 178 

Onther^latonickldea ... 181 

To his father - - - - - 182 

To Sialsillus, a Roman Poet - - 187 

To Giovanni BattiMa Manso, Marquii of Villa 189 
On the Death of Damon - - - 193 

An Ode addressed to Mr. John Koose - 203 

Sonnet 207 

Sonetto - . - - - ib. 

' ' Sonnet ... - 208 

Sonetto - • - - . ib. 

Canzone • - •. . - - • 209 

Canzone. - - - * - • ^ib 

-" Qonnet.T-To Charles IModati . . 210 

Sonetto . - - - • ib. 

Soimet ... - * 211 

Soaetto - . - - . - . ib. 

aoqoet ' - . - - - % 219 

Sonetto - - - - - - ib. 

Bp^ph pn Mrs, M. Higgins, of Weston * 213 

The Retired Cat - - - " '^^,j 

^ JWa ydleyQftlt ^ . . - . 217 -X 

- 1^ the Nighimgalo - - - - 222 f 

Lines written for Insertion in a collection of 

Hand-writings and Signatures made by 

, Miss Patty, Sister of Hanaah Moi% - 223 
Epitaph on a Redbreast ... ib. 

Sonnet to W. Wilberforce, Bs^ . - 224 

Epi^am - - - - - 225 

- To Dr. Austin - - .- " - 226 

Sonnet, aiddressod to William Hajley, Esq. 227 « 

Ciatharina 228 

An'Ppitaph .... 229 . 

^Epitaph on Fop .... 230 



lu ■ coNTEirrs. 

Sonnet to George Romncy, Esq. - - 




330 


On receiving Hayley'i Fietiir* 


m 


Epitaph on Mr. Chester, of Chioheley - 


23S 


On a Plant of Virgin's bower 


ib 


To my cousin, Anna Bodham 


23a 


Inscription for an Hermitage in the Aiithor*s 




Garden 


234 


. To Mrs. Unwin • . - . 


ib 


To John Johnson - 


235 


To a young Friend . • . • 


236 


A Tale 


ib 


To William Hayley, Esq. 


240 


On a Spaniel, called Beau, killing a Burd - 


241 


Beau's Reply 


242 


Answer to Stanzas addressed to Lady HedLoth 


243 


To the Spanish Admiral, Count .GnTioa 


ib. 


/ On Flaxman's Penelope • r - ' 


244 


/ yOn receiving Heyne's Virgil - - - 

V JZxoMary 

/^ Monies Glacialee 


9>. 


245 )( 


947 


/ . On the Ice Islands - - • ^ 
'-H^he Cartaway - - • . 
f Thrax . - . - . » 


249 


251-^ 


263 


The Thracian • - • - • 


254 


Mutua Beneyolentia 


a. , 


Reciprocal KindneM • • • - • 


256- 


Manuale - • - • . 


257 


A Manual • . 


258 


iEnigma - • - - 


260 


An Enigma - • • • 


261 


Passe res Indigenra - - • • 


263 


Sparrows self-domesticated • - • 


263 


NuUi to facias nimis sodalem 


2^ 


Familiarity'Dangerous 


fl). 


. Ad Rubeculam Iiivitatio - 


265 


Invitation to the Redbreast 


266 


StradcB Philomela - - . - 


267 


Sfcrada's Nightingale - - • - 


ib 



7ani. 



CONTENTS. 

Anus Sfficularis - 

Ode on the Death of a Ladj 

Victoria Forensis- • 

The Canse Wt 

Bombyx 

The Silk Wonn 

Imiocene Pnedairiz • 

The Innocent Thief • 

Denneri Anus / - • 

Denner'8 Old Woman 

LacrymiB Piciom 

The Tears of a Painter 

Spe Finis ' - 

The Maze 

Nemo Miser niii eomparatm 

No Sorrpw peenliarto the SoSbittr 

Limaz • • • 

The Snail 

Bqnes Academieos • 

The Cantib- - 

The SahMl, by VirgU 

From the Greek of JuHamui 

On the same, byPalaadas • 

An Epitaph 

Another - - • 

Another • • 

Another . - 

By CallimachiM « 

OnMittiades • 

On an Infant • • 

By rieraclides • • 

On the Reed 

To Health 

On the Astrologers • 

On an Old Woman • 

On Invalids t • 

On Flatterers 

On the Swallow 



11 

- oca 

270- 

«71 

872 

ib. 
S73 
S74 

fb. 
876 
877 
878 

ib. 
880 

lb. 

ib. 
881 

ib. 
868 
883 

ib. 
384 
889 

ib. 
890 

ib. 

ib. 

adi 

ib. 

ib. 
898 

ib. 

ib. 
8^ 
894 

ib. 

ib. 
295 

ib. 



*■■ '' 


j 


J2 CONTENTS. 




. On late acquired Wealth - 
«|- On a Tnie Friend - • • 
J . Ob a Bath, by Plato 


296 


. ib. 


ib. 


On a Fowler^ hy Isiodorus • • 


* 2^ 


QnNiobo . - • - 


lb. 


Ob a Good Man ... 


ib. 


pnaMieer 


296 


Another , • * • • 


ib. 


Another - ' • . 


ib. 




899 


Qtt the Grasshopper • • • 


ib. 


. On Hermocratia • • 


300 


From Menander • • • 


'A. 


. On Pallas, bathing - . • 


301 


To Demosthenes • « « 


- 300 


. On a Similar Char^fti^ # 


ft. 


On an Ugly Fellow • 


. 303 


On a Battered Beauty 


ib. 


On a Thief - -. 


ib. 


On Pedigree . • • 


304 


On Envy 


ib. 


By Philemon - ^ . • 


. . 305 


By Moschus - • . • ♦ * 


306 


In Ignorantem arrogantem Linum 


307 


.On one Ignorant and Arrogant 


ib. 


Prudens Simplicitas 


ib. 


Prudent Simplicity^ . # • 


ib. 


Ad Amicum Pauperum • , • 


a>. 


To a Friend in Diatreas 


m Sb^ 


LexTalionis - . . 


308 


Retaliation - • • 


fb. 


De Ortu et Oocasa ' • • 


ib. 


Sunset and Sunrise . • • 


ft. 


LopuB multis Amicof • ^ 


309 


Avarus et Plutus • • ^ 


r 311 


Papilio et Limax - 


31S 



SKETCH 



o» 



THE LIFE OF COWPER. 



William Cowper, the subject of the following brief 
Memoir, was bom at Great Berkhamstcad, .in Hert> 
fordilure, on th« fifteenth of Norerabor, 1731. Hia 
ftither, tb« ReT. John Cowper, D. D. Reetcur of that 
place, uni one of the chaplains of Kln^ George the 
Second, married Anne, daughter oi Roger Donne, 
EUq. of Lo^iam-hall, in the county of Norfolk. She 
died in childbed on the thirteenth of November, 1737 ; 
and he of a paralytick seiznre on the tenth of July. 
175C. Of five Bons and two daughters, the issue of 
thi& marriage, William and 'John onfy survived thek 
parents : the rest died in their kifhncy. 

Such was his origin ; — but it must be added, that tho 
highest blood of the realm flowed in the veins of tlie 
modest and unassuming Cowper. It b perhaps already 
known that his grandfather, Spencer Cowper, was 
Chief Justice of the Common Pleae, and next brother 
to William, first Earl Cowper, and L6rd High Chan- 
cellor of England : but hie mother was descended 
through the families of Hippesley of Throughley, in 
Sussex, and Pellet of Bolney, in tho same county 
from tlio several noble houses of West, Knollys, Ca- 
rey, Bullen, Howard, and Mowbray ; and so by four 
different' lines from Henry the Third JLing of England. 
Distinctions of this nature can sited no additional lustre 

VoK. 2 






14 SKETCH OF THE 

on the memory of Cowper ; but genius, however ex* 
alted, disdains not, while it boasts not, the splendour 
of ancestry ; and royalty itself may be flattered, and 
pe^aps benefited, by discovering its kindred to such 
piety, such purity, such talents as his. 

The simplicity of the times that witnessed the child- 
hood of Cowper, assigned him his first instruction at a 
day-school in his native village. The reader may re- 
collect an allusion to this circumstance in his beauUfbl 
Monody on the receipt of his mother's Pictnrei 

" the gard'ner Robin, day by day 
Drew me to scbool along the publick way, 
Delighted with my bauble coach, and wrapt 
In scarlet mantle warm, and velvet cap.'' 

On the death of the beloved parent, who is so tenderly 
conunemorated in .that exquisite poem, and who just 
lived to see him complete his sixth year, he Vas placed 
under the care of Dr. Pitman, of Market-street, a few 
miles distant from the paternal roof. At this respecta- 
ble academy he remained till he was eight years of 
age, when Uie alarming appearance of specks on both 
his eyes induced his father to send him to the house o£ 
a female oculist in London. . Her attempts, however, 
to relieve him, were unsuccessful, and at the expira- 
tion of two years he exchanged her residence for that 
of Westminister-school, where, sometime aderwards a 
/emedy was unexpectedly provided for him in the 
small-pox, which, as he says in a letter to Mr. Hayley, 
•* proved the better occulist of the two." What de- 
gree of profici^incy, as to the rudiments of education, 
ho carried with him to this venerable establishment, at 
tlie head of which was Dr. Nichols, does not appear, 
but that he left it in the year 1749, with scholastick 
attainments of the first order, is beyond a doubt. 

Afler spending three months with his father at Berk* 
hampstead, lie was placed in the family of a Mr. Chap* 
man, a solicitor, in London, with a view to his instruc 



LIFE OF COWFER. 15 

tion in the practice of the law. To tkb gentleman he 
was engaged by articles, for three years. The oppor- 
tunities, however, which a residence in the house of 
his legal tutor afforded him, for attaining the skill that 
he was supposed to be in search of, were so far from at- 
taching him to legal studies, that he spent the greater 
part of his time in the house of a near relation. This 
he playfully confesses in the following passage of a let- 
ter to a daughter of that relative, more than thirty years 
after the time he describes : '^ I did actually Uve three 
years with Mr. Chapman, a solicitor, that is to say, I 
slept three years in his house ; but I lived, that is to 
say, I spent my days in Southampton-row, as you very 
well remenfber. There was I, and the future Lord 
Chancellor, constantly employed from morning to 
night in giggling and making giggle, instead of study- 
ing the law. Oh fie, cousin ! how could you do so ?'* 
Tlie subject of this sprightly remonstrance was the 
lady Heaketh, who so materially contributed to the 
c6mfort of the dejected poet in his declining years ', 
and the chancellor alluded to was lord Thurlow. This 
trifling anecdote is no otherwise worthy of record, 
than as it may serve to show, that the profession which 
his friends had selected for him, had nothing in it con- 
genial with the mind of Cowper. 

The three years for which he had been consigned 
to the ofHce of the solicitor being expired, at the age 
of twenty-one he took possession of a set of chambers 
in the Inner Temple. By this step he became, or ra- 
ther ought to have become, a regular student of law ; 
but it soon appeared that the higher pursuits of jurispru- 
dence were as little capable of fixing his attention, aa 
the elementary parts of that science had proved. It i:i 
not to be supposed, indeed, that at this maturor age, ho 
continued those habits of idleness and dissipation which 
have already been noticed ; but it is certain, from a 
colloquial account of his e^rly years, with which he 
favoured his friend Mr. Hayley, that literature, and 



16 SKETCH OF THE 

particularly of a poetical kind, was his principal pur 
suit in the Temple. In the cultivation of studies ad 
agreeable to his taste, he could not fail to associate 
occasionally with such of his Westminster school-fel- 
lows as were resident in London, and whom he knew 
to be eminent literary characters. The elder Colman, 
Bonnet Thornton, and Lloyd, were especially of this 
description. With these, therefore, he seems to hav9 
contracted the greatest intimacy, assisting the two for- 
mer in their periodical publication, The Connoisseur ; 
and the latter, as Mr. Hayley conjectures, in the works 
which his slender finances obliged him to engage in. 
The Duncombes also, -father and son, two amiable 
scholars of Stocks, in Hertfi^rdshiro, lAid intimate 
friends of his surviving parent, were among the writers 
of the time, to whose poetical productions Cowper con- 
tributed. In short, the twelve years which he spent in 
the Temple, were, if not entirely devoted to classical 
pursuits, yet so much engrossed by them as to add 
little or nothing to the slender stock of legal knowledge 
which he had previously acquired in the bouse of the 
solicitor. 

The prospect of a profesetonal Income of his own 
acquiring, under circumstances like these, bei&g out of 
the question, and his patrimonial resources being near* 
ly exhausted, it occurr^ to him, towards the end of the 
above-mentioned period, that not only was his long 
cherished wish of settling in matrimonial life, thus 
painfully precluded, but he was even in danger of per- 
sonal want. It is not unlikely that his friends were 
aware of the probability of such an event, from the 
uniform inattention ho had shown to his legal studies , 
for in the thirty -first year of his age they procure|d him 
a nomination to the offices of reading-clerk and clerk 
of the private CommittiBes in the House of Lords- 
But he was by no means qualified for discharging the 
duties annexed to either of those employments ; nators 
having assigned him such an extreme tenderness of 



LIFE OF COWPER. i7 

ipirit; as, to use his own powerful expression, made a 
publick exhibition of himself, under any circumstances, 
" mortal poison" to him. No sooner, therefore, had he 
adverted to the consequence of his accepting so con* 
spicuous an appointment, the splendour of which he 
confesses to have dazzled him into a momentary con- 
sent, than, it forcibly striking him at the same time, 
that such a favourable- opportunity for his marrying 
might never occur again, his mind became the seatof the 
most conflicting sensations. These continued and in* 
creased; for the ^ace of a week, to such a painful de- 
gree, that seeing no possible way of recovering any 
measure of his former tranquillity, except by resigning 
the situation which the kindness of his friends had 
procured him, he most earnestly entreated that they 
would allow him to do so. To this, though with great 
reluctance, they at length consented, he having offer- 
ed to exchange it for a much less lucrative indeed, b6t 
as he flattered himself, a less irksome ofEce, which 
was alsw vacant at that time., namely, the clerkship of 
the journals in the House of Lords. 

The return of sometliing like composure to the mind 
of CJowper was- the consequence of this arrangement 
between him and his friends. It was a calm however, 
but of short duration ; for he had scarcely been possess 
ed of it three days, when an unhi4>py and unforeseen 
incident not only robbed him of this semblance of com 
fort, but involved him in more than his forme* 
distress. A dispute in parliament, in reference to th» 
last mentioned appointment, laid him under the for- 
midable necessity of a personal appearance at the bar 
of the house of Lords, that his fitness for the under 
taking might be publickly acknowledged. The trem- 
bling apprehension with which the timid and exquisitely 
sensible mind of this amiable man could not fail to 
look forward to an event of this sort, rendered every 
intermediate attempt to prepare himself for tlte ex- 
unination completely abortive • and the conacious- 
2* 



/8 . SKETCH OF THE 

ness that it did so, accumulated bis terrours. These 
had risen, in short, to a confusion of mind so incom- 
patible with the integrity of reason, when the eve 
of the dreaded ceremony actually arrived, that his in- 
tellectual powers sunk under it. He was no longer 
himself. 

In this distressing sitnation it was foui>d neoessajy, 
in the month of Decen^r, 1763, to remove him to St 
Alban's ; from whence, through the skilful and humane 
treatment of Dr. Cotton, under whose ciure he was plac- 
ed, his friends hoped that he would soon return In the 
full enjoyment of his former faculties. In the most 
materisd part of their wish it pleased Grod to indulge 
them, his recovery being happily effected in some 
what lees than eight months. Instead,.however, of re- 
visiting the scenes in which his painful calamity had 
first occurred, he remained with his amiable physician 
nearly a twelve month after he had pronounced his 
cure : and that from motives altogether of a devotional 
kind. 

On this part of the poet's history it maybe proper to 
observe that although, if viewed as an originating 
cause, the subject of religion had not the remotest con- 
nexion with his mental calamity ', yet no sooner bad 
the disorder assumed the shape of hypoehmuLriasis^ 
which it did in a very early stage of its progress, than 
those sacred truths which prove an unfailing source of 
the most salutary contemplation to the lindisturbcd 
mind, were, through the influence of that distorting 
medium, conveiled into a vehicle of intellectual poi- 
son. 

A most erroneous and unhappy idea has occupied the 
n^inds of some persons, that those views of Christianity 
which Cowper adopted, and of which, when enjoying 
the intervals of reason, he was so bright an ornament, 
had actually contributed to excite tne malady with 
which, he was afflicted. It is capable of the clearest 
demonstration, that nothing was further from the truth. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 19 

On the contrary, all those alleviationB of sorrow, those 
delightful anticipations' of heavenly rest, those healing 
consolations to a wounded spirit, of which he was per- 
mitted to taste, at the periods when unintermpted rea- 
son resumed its sway, were unequivocally to be ascrib- 
ed to the operation of those very principles and views 
of religion, which, in the instance before us, have 
been charged with producing so opposite an effect. 
The primary aberrations pf his mental faculties were 
wholly to be attributed to other causes. But the 
time was at hand, when, by the happy interpoation 
of a gracious Providence, he was to be the favoured 
subject of a double emancipation. The captivity of 
his reason was about to terminate ; and a bondage, 
though hitherto, unmentioned, yet of a much longer 
standing, was on the point of being exchtoged for the 
delightful of all freedom. 



* ^ A liberty unsung 
By poetS; and by senators unj^rais'd ; 
• * # * • * 

E'en "liberty of heart,* derived from heav'n : 
Itought with His blood who gave it to mankind. 
And seal'd whh the same token \"\ 

To the invaluable blesnng of such a change he was as 
yet a stranger. He had been for some time convinced, 
and that on scriptural grounds, how much he stood in 
need of it, from a perception of the fetters with which, 
so long ma he was capable of enjoying them, the plea- 
sures of the world and of sense had bound his heart ; 
but till the moment of his affliction, he had remained 
spiritually a prisoner. The hour was now come when 
his pri^n-doors were to be unfolded ; when " he that 
openeth and 60 man shutteth," was to give him a bless^ 
ed experience of what 

" Is liberty : a flight into his arms < 

Ere yet mortality's fine Uireads give way, 

• Rom. vili. 21 t The Task, Kook V 



f 



80 SKETCH OF THE 

A clear escape from tyrannising" sin, 
" And full immunity frcmi penal wo !"* 

On the 25th of July, 1764, his brother, the Re? 
John Cowper, Fellow of Bennet College, Cambridge, 
having been informed by Dr. Cotton, that his patient 
was greatly amended, camo to visit him. The first 
sight of so dear a relative in the enjoyment of health 
and happiness, accompanied as it was with an instan- 
taneous reference to Iiis own very different lot, occa- 
sioned in the breast of Cowper many painful sensations. 
For a few moments, the cloud of despondency which 
had been gradually removing, involved his mind in his 
former darkness. Light, however, was approaching. 
Elis brother invited him to walk in the garden ; where 
BO effectually did he protest to him, that the appre- 
hensions lie felt were all a delusion, that he burst into 
tears, and cried out, " If it be a delusion, then am 1 
the happiest of beings." During tlie remainder of the 
day, which he spent with this affectionate brother, the 
truth of the above assertion became so increasingly 
evident to him, that when he arose the next morning, 
he was perfectly well. 

This, however, was but a part of tlie happiness 
which the memorable day we are now arrived at had 
in store for the interesting and amiable Cowper. Be- 
fore he left the room in which he had breakfasted, ho 
observed a Bible lying in the window-seat. He took it 
up. Except in a single instance, and that two months 
before, he had not ventured to open one ^ince the early 
days of his abode at St. Alban's." But the time was 
now come when he might do it to purpose. The pro- 
fitable perusal of that divine book had been provided 
for in the most effectual manner, by the restoration at 
once of the powers of his understanding, and the su- 
peradded gift of a spiritual discemmeiit. Under these 
Givourable circumstances, he opened the sacred vo- 
*• The Task, Book V 



LIFE OF COWPER. 21 

Atane at that passage of the cpistlo to the Romans, where 
the apostle says, that Jesus Christ is " set forth to be 
a propitiation through faith in his blood, to declare 
his righteousness for the remission of sins that are past, 
through the forbearance of God." To use the ezprei* 
sion employed by Cowper himself, in a written docu- 
ment from which this portion of his history is extract- 
wd, he " received strength to believe it ;" to see the 
suitableness of the atonement of his own necessity, 
and to embrace the gospel with gratitude and joy. 

That the happiest portion of Cowper's life was that 
oh which he had now entered, appears partly frofh his 
own account ot the first eighteen months of the suc- 
ceeding period, and partly from the testimony of an 
endeared friend, in a letter to. the writer of this brief 
memoir ; a friend, who, during the six or seven years 
that immediately followed, was seldom removed from 
him four hours in the day. But not to anticipate what 
remains to be offered, the devotional spirit of his late 
skilful physician, and now valuable ^ost, Dr. Cotton, 
was so completely in unison with the feelings of Cow- 
per, that he did not take his departure from St. Alban's 
till the 17th of June, 1765. During the latter part of 
his residence there, and subsequent to the Iiippy 
change just described, he exhibited a proof of the in- 
teresting and scriptural character of those views of 
religion which he had embraced in the composition of 
two hymns. These hymns he himself styled '^ sped 
mens" of his " first christian thoughts ;'* a circum 
stance which will greatly enhance their value in tjio 
minds of those to whom they have been long endeared 
by their own intrinsick excellence. The subject of the 
first of these hymns is taken from Revelation,.xxi. 5. 
" Behold, I make all things new," and begins, " How 
blest thy creature is, O God." The second under the 
title of " Retirement," begins " Far from the world, O 
Lord, I flee." 



«» SKETCH or THE 

Karly in the morning of the day above-mentioned, 
he set out for Cambridge, on his way to Huntingdon, 
the nearest place to his own rcsidencoi at which his 
brother had been able to secure him an asylum. He 
adverts with peculiar emphasis to the sweet commu- 
nion with his divine Benefactor, which though not 
alone, he enjoyed in silence during the whole of this 
journey ; on the Saturday succeeding which, ho ro 
paired with his brother to his destination at Hunting 
don. 

No sooner had Mr. John Cowper left him, and re 
turnlid to Cambridge, than, to use his own words, 
"finding himself surrounded by strangers, in a place 
with which he was utterly unacquainted, his spirits 
began to sink, and he felt like a traveller in tlie midst 
of an inhospitable desert, without a friend to comfort, 
or a guide to direct him. He walked forth towards the 
close of the day, in this melancholy frame of mind, and 
having wandered a mile from the town, he was enabled 
to trust in Him «vho carcth for the stranger, and to rest 
assured that wherever He might cast his lot, the God 
of all consolation would still be near him. 

To the question which the foregoing pathetick pas- 
sage will naturally give rise in every feeling mind, 
namely, why was not Mr. Cowper advised, instead of 
hazarding his tender and convalescent spirit among the 
strangers of Huntingdon, to recline it on the bosom of 
his friends ito London ? it is incumbent on the writer 
to venture a reply. It is presumed, therefore, that 
no inducement to his return to them, which, with a 
view to their mutual satisfaction, his affectionate rela* 
tives, and most intimate friends could devise, was ei- 
ther omitted on their part, or declined without reluc- 
tance on his. But in the cultivation of the religious 
principles which, with the recovery of liis reason, he 
had lately imbibed, and which in so distinguished a 
manner it had pleased God to bless, to the re-esta- 



LIFE OF COWPER. 23 

Mumment ofhis peace, he had an interest to provide for 
tf7 n tauctk higher order. This it was that inclined him 
4«> a Ur^ of seclusion : a measure in the adoption of 
viFi.lch, tliotigh in ordinary cases, he is certainly not 
U^ be quoted as an example : yet considering the ez- 
trome peculiarity of his own, it seems equally certain 
thfit he is not to be censured. There can be no doubt 
indeed, from tho following passage of his poem on Re- 
tirement, that had his mind been the repository of loss 
exquisitely tender sensibilities, he would have returned 
to his duties in the Inner Temple : 

" Truth is not local, God alike pervades 
And fiUs the world of traffick and the shades, 
And may be fear'd amidst the busiest scenes, 
Or scorned where business never intervenes.'' 

Of the first two months of his abode in Huntingdon, 
nothing is recorded, except that he gradually mixed 
with a few of its inhabitants, and cdrresponded with 
some of his early friends. But at«the end of that time, 
as he was one day coming out of church, afler morning 
prayeiis, at which he appears to have been a constant 
attendant, be was accosted by a young gentleman of 
engaging manners, who exceedingly desired to culti« 
vate his acquaintance. This pleasing youth, known 
afterwards to the publick as the Rev. William Caw- 
thome Unwin, Rector of Stock, in Essex, to whom the 
aathor of the Task inscribed his poem of Tirocinium, 
was so intent upon acpomplishing the object of his 
wif^es, that when he took leave of the interesting 
stranger, after sharing his walk under a row of trees, 
he had obtained his permission to drink tea with him 
tftat day. 

This was the origin of the introduction of Cowpex 
to the family of thp Rev. Morlcy Unwin, consisting of- 
bimsclf, his wife, the son already named, and a daugh 



» 



£4 SKETCH OF THE 

ter an event, whbhf when vie'wed in connexion with 
liis remaining years, will scarcely yield, in impc^rtanee, 
to any feature of his life. Concerning these engagiag 
persona, whoso general habits of life, and ea|)eciaMy 
whose piety rendered them the yery as^ociatei tlvit 
Cowper wanted, he thus ej^resses himself in a letter, 
written two months afler, to one of his earliest and 
warmest friends ;* <' Now I know them, I wonder that 
1 liked Huntingdon so well before I knew them, and am 
apt to think I should find every place disagreeable that 
had not an Unwin belonging to it" 

The house which Mr. Unwin inhabited was a large 
and convenient dwelling in the High-street in which 
he had been in the habit of receiving a few domestick 
pupils to prepare them for the University. At the di- 
vision of the October Term, one of these students be- 
ing called to Cambridge, it was proposed that the soli- 
tary lodging which Cowper occupied should be exchang- 
ed for the.pospession of the vacant place. On the llth 
ef November, therefore, in the same year, he com- 
menced his residence in tMs agreeable fiunily. But 
the calamitous! death of Mr. Unwin, by a fall from his 
horse, as he was going to his church on a Sunds^ mom- 
iug, the July twelvemonth following, proved the signal 
of a further removal to Cowper, who, by a series of 
providential incidents, was Condacted with the family 
of his deceased friend to the town of Olney, in Buck- 
inghamshire, on the 14th of October 1767. The in- 
strument whom it pleased Grod principally to employ 
^in bringing about this important event, was the Rev. 
John Newton, then curate of that parish, and after- 
wards rector of St. Mary Woolnoth in London : a most 
exemplary divine, indefatigable in the discharge of his 
ministerial duties ; in which, so far as was consisfeint 
\Y\h the province of a layman, it became the hsppi- 
pess of Cowper to strengthen his hands. 
•Joseph Hill, Esq. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 25 

Great was the value which Cowp*er set on Iho friend' 
Ehip and intercourse which for some yeais ho had the 
privilege of enjoying with the estimable author of Car- 
diphonia. This appears by the following passage in one 
of his letters to that venerable pastor ; '^ The honour 
of your preface, prefixed to my poems, wifl be on my 
side ; for surely to be known as the friend of a much 
favoured minister of God*8 word, is a more illustrions 
distinction in reality than to have the friendship of 
any poet in the worjd to boast of.** A correspondent 
testimony of the estimation in which our poet was held 
by his friend Mr. Newton is clearly deducible from 
the introductory words of the preceding sentence ; 
and is abundantly furnished in the preface itself. 

A very interesting part of the connexion thus hap- 
pily established between Mr. Cowper and Mr. Newton, 
was afterwards brought to light in the publication of 
the Olney Hymns, which was intended as a •monument 
of the endeared and joint labours of these .exemplary 
christians. To this collection Mr. Cowper contributed 
sixty-eight compositions. • 

From the commencement of his residence at Olney 
till January, 1773, a period of five years and a quarter, 
it does not appear that there was any material inter- 
ruption either of the health or religious comfort of this 
excellent man. His feelings, however, must have re- 
ceived a severe shock in February, 1770, when he was 
twice summoned to Cambridge by the illness of his be 
loved brother, which terminated fatally on the 20th of 
the following month. How far this afflictive event 
might conduce to such a melancholy catastr&phe, it is 
impossible to judge ; but certain it is, that at this period 
a renewed attack of hi'j former h3rpochondriaeal com* 
plaint took place. It is remarkable tiiat the prevailing 
distortion of his ^idicted imagination became then not 
only inconsistent with the dictates of right reason, but 
was entirely at variance with every distinguishing 
p.haracteristick of that roligion whieh had so long prov 

Vol. m. a • 



m SKETCH OF THE 

ed the incitement Ax> hit useful labours, and the source 
of his mental consolations. Indeed, so powerful and 
■o singular was the effect produced on his mind by the 
influence of the malady, that while for many subse- 
quent years it admitted of his exhibiting the most mas- 
terly and delightful display of poetical, epistolary, and 
coifVersational. ability, on the greatest variety of sub- 
jects, it constrained him from that period, both in his 
conversation and letters, studiously to abstain from 
every allusion of a religious nature. Tet no one could 
doubt that the hand and heart from which, even under 
so mysterious a dispensation, such exquisite descrip- 
tions, of sacred truth and feeling afterwards proceeded; 
must have been long and faithfully devoted to his God 
and Father. The testimonies of his real piety were 
manifested to others, when least apparent to himself 
But where it pleased God to throw a veil over the men- 
tal and spiritual consistency of this excellent and 
afflicted man, it would ill become us rudely to invade 
the divine prerogative by attempting to withdraw it. 

Under the grievpus visitation above-mentioned, Mrs. 
Unwin, whom he had professed to love as a mother, 
was as a guardian angel to. this interesting sufferer. 
Day and night she watched over him. Inestimable 
likewise was the friendship of Mr. Newton : " Next to 
the duties of my ministry/' said that venerable pastor, 
in a letter to the author of this memoir, more than 
twenty years afterwards, " it was the business of my 
life to attend him." 

For more than a twelvemonth subsequent to this at- 
tack, Cowper seems to have been totally overwhelmed 
by the vehemence of his disorder. But iii March, 1774, 
he was so far enabled to struggle with it, as to seek 
amusement in the taming his three hares, and in the 
construction of boxes for them to dwell in. From me- 
chanical amusements he proceeded to epistolary em- 
ployment, a specimen of which, addressed to his friend 
Mr. Unwin who Jjad been some years settled at Stock, 



LIFE OF COWPER. 27 

in Ks80X; iu the summer of 1778, shows that he had, 
in a groat measure, recovered his admirable faculties. 
. In 1779 ho accompanied Mrs. Unwin in a post-chaise 
to view the gardens of Gayhurst ; an excursion of 
which he informs her son in a playful letter. 

In the autumn of this year we find him reading the 
Biography of Johnson, and, with the exception of What 
^o terms his " unmerciful treatment of Milton," ex- 
pressing himself " well entertained** with it. 

One of his earliest amitsements, in 1780, was the com- 
position of the beautiful fable of <^ The Nightingale 
and the Glow-worm ;" after which he betook himself 
to the drawing of landscapes : an employment of which 
he grew passionately fond, though he had never been 
instructed in the art. This attachment to the pencil 
was particularly seasonable, as in the midst of it he 
lost his friend Mr. Newton, who was called to the 
charge of St. Mary Woolnoth, in London. With a 
'provident ctfre, however, for his future welfare, this 
'excellent man obtained his permission to introduce to 
him the Rev. William Bull, of Newport Paghell, who 
from that time regularly visited him once a fortnight: 
and whom Cowper afterwards described to his friend 
Unwin, as '^ a man of letters and of genius, master of a 
fine imagination, or rather not master of it ;" who 
could be " lively without levity, and pensive without 
dejection." As the year advanced, Hume's History, 
and the Biographm Britanhica engaged his attention, 
though the amusements of the garden were his chief 
resource, and had banished drawing altogether. These, 
with the frequent exercise of his epistolary talent, and 
the occasional production of a minor piece of poetry, 
in the composition of which the entertainment of him- 
self and his friends was his only aim, led him to the 
important month of December, in this year, when he 
was to sit down with the secret intention of writing 
for the publick ; an intention, however, which liis ex- 
tremo humility took care to couple in, his mind with '. 



28 SKETCH OF THE 

this proviso, that a bookseller could he found wdo 

would run the risk of publishing his productions. 

Between that time and March, 1781, the four first of 
his larger poems wpre completed ; namely, Table Talk, 
The Progress of Errour, Truth, and Expostulation 
These, together with the small pieces contained in the 
earliest edition qf that volume, were sent to the press 
m the following May : Mr. Johnson, of St. Paul> 
Church-yard, who had been recommended to the poet 
by Mr. Newton, having, as he informed his friend at 
Stock, ^* heroically set all peradventures at defiance,** 
as to the expense of printing, *^ and taken the whole 
charge upon himself.'* 

The operation of the press, however, had scarcely 
commenced, when it was suggested to the author, that 
the season of publication being so far elapsed, it would 
be adviseable to postpone the appearance of his book 
till the ensuing winter. This delay was productive of 
two advantages ; it enabled him to correct tiie press 
himself, and nearly to double the quantity of the pro- 
iected volume ; to which, by the 24th of Juno, he had 
added the poem of Hope ; by the 12th of July, that 
of Charity, and by the 19th of October, those of Con- 
versation and Retirement. 

Whilst the poet was occupied in the extension of hit 
worky there arrived at tJie neighbouring village of Clif- 
ton, a lady who was, ui due time, to make a most 
agreeable addition to^ his society, and to whom the pub* 
Uck were afterwards indebted for the first^uggestion of 
the Sofa, as they were also to Mrs. Unwin for that of 
the Progress of Errour, as a subject for Cowper's muse. 
The writer alludes to Lady Austen, the widow of Sir 
Robert Austen, Baronet, whose first introduction to the 
poet and his friends occurred in the summer of 1781 i 
a memorable era in the life of Cowper. The limits, 
however, of a contracted narrative, such as this pro- 
fbsses to "be, will only allow me here to introduce tlid 
. brief character of this accomplished lady, which Cow* 



THE LIFE OF COWBER. 39 

per despatched to his friend Unwin, in the month of 
August of this year ; namely, ^' that she had seen much 
of the world, understood it well, had high spirits, a 
lively fancy, and great readiness of conversation." 
The frequent visits of this pleasing associate to her 
new acquaintance at Olney, gave rioe to that familiar 
epistle in rhyme, which the poet addressed to her on 
her return to London ; it is dated IMsember 17, 1781. 
The last month of that year, and the two first of the 
year following, appear to have been employed by 
^Cowper in correcting the press, in epistolary corre- 
spondence, and in desultory reading. 

The year 1782 was also an eventful period in the life 
of the poet, Jja. Marc^ his first volume issued from 
the press. In the summer Mr. Bull engaged him in the 
translation of Madam Guion ; and by means of a small 
portable printing-press, given him by Lady Austen, 
who had returned from London to GlUton, he became 
a printer as well as a writer of poetry. In October of 
the same year, the pleasant poem of John Gilpin sprang 
np, like a mushroom, in a night. The story on which 
it is fi>unded, having been related to him by L»dy 
Austen, in one of their evening parties, it was veri- 
fied in bed, and presented to her the next morning in 
the shape of a ballad. Before the close of the year 
Lady Austen was settled in the parscmage at Olney. 

The consequence of this latter arrangement was a 
more frequent intercourse between the lady and her 
friends. Mr. Unwin, indeed, is Informed, in a letter 
which he received from Mr. Cowper in January, 1783,^ 
that " they passed their days alternately at each other's 
chateau." This eventually led to the publication of 
the Task. Lady Austen, as an admirer of Milton, was 
fond of blank verse. She wished to engage Cowper in 
that species of composition. For a long time he de* 
clined it. The lady, however, persevered, till, in June 
or July of the same year, he promised to write if ah* 
3 * 



aO .SJCETGH OF THE 

would li)r«i(Ni the aubpict. " O !" she replied, " yon 
can never be in want of a sobject ; you can write upen 
any : — write upon this sofa !" " The poet," says Mf. 
Hayley, ^^ obeyed her command, and from tho lively 
repartee of familiar conyersaticm arose a poem of many 
thousand verses, vnexampled perhaps both in its origin 
and exoellesce I A poem of such infinite variety, that 
it soems to include every subject, and every style, with- 
out any disscmance or disorder ; and to have flowed 
without e^^rt, from iiliapired ^lanthropj, eager to 
impress upon the hearts of all readers whatever mc^ 
lead them most happily to the full enjojonent of hv 
man life, and to the final attainment of heaven." 

The progress of this enchantia^ performance appears 
to have been thi^. The first four books, and part of 
tSxe fifib, were written biy the 22d of February, 1784 ; 
the final verses of the poem in September folkiwing; 
and in the beginning of October the work was sent to 
the press. The arrangements with the bookseller were 
entrusted to Mr. Unwin. During the period of its 
production, the evenings of the poet appear to have 
been constantly devoted io a course of diversifiecK read- 
ing to tiie ladies. Such as Hawkesworth's Voyages, 
L'Estrange's Josepku9> Jehnson's Prefaces, The The* 
ological Miscellany, Beattie^s and Blair's Lecture^ 
the ** Folio of four Pages," and the Oircumnavigatiens 
Qf Cook. Thi9 may in some measure aeeonnt for the 
comparatively slow execution of the latter part of the 
work, and indeed of the wholei, wath veference to the 
^ former volume. But the following passage' of a letter 
to Mr, Newton, dated October 30, 1784, wSl expUda 
it more fully. " I mentioned it not socmer," nameijT) 
that ho was engaged in the work, ^^ because, almost 
to the last, I was doubtful whether I should ever bring 
it to & conclusion, working often in such distress of 
mmd, as while it spurred mo to the work^ at the same 
time threatened to disqualify rae for it " Afler it waf 



z.-:=^^ 



LIFE Oh COWPER. 31 

aent to the press, he added the poem of Tirociniuni, 
two hundred lines of which were written in 1782, and 
the remainder in October «nd November, 1784. 

On the SXst of this month he began his traaslatioa 
of Homer, which, together with the completion of The 
Task, proves the year 1784 to have been an active 
period ia the life of Cowper. A no less striking occur- 
rfipee of that year was the termination of his inter- 
course wiCk Lady Austen. For a just statement of 
that sudden event, which, while it by no moans low- 
ered the character of either of the ladies, exceedingly 
elevated that of Cowper, the reader m referred to the 
biography of Hayley. 

The year 1785 was marked by the publication of the 
secGid volume of his poems in June or July, contain- 
ing The Task, Tirocinium, The Epistle to Joseph Hill, 
Esq. and the diverting History of John Gilpin ; also, 
by tlie production of many excellent letters, among 
which those to liis cousin, lady Hesketh, who had late- 
ly returned from a residence ia Italy, and renewed hex 
oorre&pondence with him on the appearance of hia 
second volume, are peculiarly interesting. With the 
exception of a few of his smaller pieces, his poetical 
employment this year was confined to the tr^nriatioo. 
of Homer. 

The same may be said of the succeeding year, which» 
however, was distinguished by tlvee remarkable oc- 
Qurrences : the arrival of lady Hec^eth, at Olney, in 
Jane ; Cowper's removal to the Lodge in^^e adjoining 
village of Weston Underwood, in November ; and the 
deal^ of Mr. Uawin, ia the same month. To the first 
()f these eventff he thus alludes in a letter to Mr. Hill , 
H.My dear cousin's arrival here, as it could not fail ta 
do, made us happier than we ever were at Olney. Her 
great kindness in giving us her company is a cordial 
that I shall feel the effect of, not only while i^ is here> 
hut while I live ;" to the second, thu#, in a letter Mr 
the same friend, '^ I find myself hero situated exactly 



32 SKETCH OF THE 

to my mmd. Weston is one of the prettiest viliages 
in England, and the walks about it, at all seasons of the 
year, delightful. I know that you will rejoice with me 
in the change that wo have made, and for which I am 
altogether indebted to lady Hesketh ;" and to tbe third, 
thus, in concluding a letter to that l^dy, " So farewell 
my friend Unwin ! The first man for whom I conceiv- 
ed a friendship after my removal from St. Alban's, and 
for whom I cannot but still feel a friendship, though I 
shall see thee with these eyes no more." 

Early in January, 1787, he was attacked with a ner- 
vous fever, which obliged him to discontinue his poeti- 
cal eflforts till the October following. A few days after 
the commencement of this indisposition, he recebired a 
visit from a straBger, which he thus notices in a letter 
to lady Hesketh : " A young gentleman called here 
yesterday, who came nix miles out of his way to see 
me. He was on a journey to London from Glasgow, 
having just left the University there. He came, I sup- 
pose, partly to satisfy his own curiosity, but chie^y, 
as it seemed, to bring me the thanks of some of the 
Scotch Professors for my two volumes. His name is 
Rose, an Englishman. Your spirits being good, you 
will derive more pleasure from this incident than I can 
at present, therefore I send it." This interesting and 
accomplished character was afterwards of singular use 
to Cowper, during a friendship which originated in the 
above visit, and which was terminated only by the 
death of the poet. As an early instance of this utility, 
and that with reference to the paramount wants of the 
mind, he introduced his new acquaintance to the poiptry 
of Burns, with which he was so much pleased as to read 
it twice. It was succeeded in the office of relieving his 
depressed spirits by the Latin Argenis of Barclay ; The 
Travels of Savary into Egypt ; Memoirs du Baron de 
Tott ; Fenn's Original Letters ; The Letters of Fre- 
derick of Bohemia j Momoirs Of d'Henri de Lorraine. 
Due de Guise; and The Letters of his young relative 



LIKE OF COWPER. 33 

3pencer Madan, to Priestley. In allugion to UnA inter- 
val of cessation from the labours of tho pen, he says in 
a letter to Mr.- Rose, " When I cannot walk, I read, 
and read perhaps more than is good for me. But I can- 
not be idle. The only mercy that I show myself in 
this respect is, that I read nothing that requires much 
closeness of application." Conversing, however, with 
men and things, through tho medium of books, was not 
his only resource in this season of illness. He had an 
infinitely better medicine of this kind, in the society 
of his valuable firiends at the Hall, and the many pleas- 
ing acquaintances to which their hospitality introduc- 
ed him. Indeed the kindness of Sir John and lady 
Throckmorton, always a cordial to the spirits of Cow- 
per from the time he knew them, was "especially such 
under his present ciroumstanceg. As a proof of its 
happy influence on the mind of the poet, he was* ena- 
bled in the autumn to resume his translation of Homer, 
which, with the renewal of his admirable letters to 
several friends, and the production of his first mortua- 
ry verses fcur the clerk of Northampton, comprised all 
his literary performances to the conclusion of the year. 

In 1788 his venerable uncle, Ashley Cowper, Esq. 
the father of lady Hesketh, died at the age of eighty- 
seven ; an event which he pathetically alludes to in 
several of the letters of this period, and the ill effect 
of which on his spirits was happily prevented by the 
suc-cessive visits at the ' lodge of the Rev. Matthew 
Powley, and his amiable partner, the daughter of Mrs. 
Unwin *, his old friends the Newtous, Mr. Rose, and 
lady Hesketh. 

The reappearance at the Lodge of the two last men- 
tioned visiters is recorded in his letters of 1769, which 
was also devoted to Homer and the muse. 

In January, 1790, the writer of this sketch, who had 
hitherto enjoyed no personal intercourse with his rela- 
tive, but for wliom, ten years after, was reserved the 
melancholy office of closing his eyes, introduced him- 



M SKETCH OF THE 

self to the poet as the grandson of his mother's bro- 
ther, tlie Rev. Roger Donne, late rector of CatfieH, 
in Norfolk. His total ignorance of what had be&Ileii 
thjft branch of his family, during the twenty-sevca 
years of his retirement from the world, wouM of itseh 
haye secured his attention to a visiter so circumstanc 
ed, even if his heart had been a stranger to the hospita- 
ble virtues. But as no human bosom was ever mord 
onder the influence of those blessed qualities than 
Cowpcr's, the reception which his kinsman met with 
was peculiarly pleasing. The consequence was a re- 
petition of his visit in the same year, and indeed the 
passing of the chief of his fetcademical recesses at the 
Lodge, and lus clerical ^leisure afterwards, till, by the 
appointment of Providence, he transplanted this inter- 
esting man with his enfeebled companion into Nor^ 
folk, as will appear in the sequel of these pages. 

Perceiving that his new and valuable acquaintance 
dwelt with great pleasure on the memory of his mother, 
the kinsman of Cowper, on his return home, was espe- 
cially careful to despatch to him her pictinre, as a pre- 
sent from his cousin, Mrs. Bodbam. To the arrival of this 
portrait, an original in oils, by Heins, he th«s adverts 
in a letter to that lady, dated Febnwu-y 27, 1790 ; « The 
world could not have furnished you with a present m 
acceptable to roe as the jHcture which you have so 
kindly sent me. I received it the night before last, and 
viewed it with a trepidation of nerves and spirits some- 
what akin to what I should have felt had the dear <Nrigi- 
nal presented herself to ifiy embraces. I kissed it, and 
hung it where it is the last object that I 6ee at night, 
and of course the first on which I open my eyes in the 
morning." The receipt of this picture gave rise to 
the Monody so justly a favourite with the public, whstt 
it appeared in the later editions of his poems. 
On the 25th of August, in this year, he completed his 
, translation of the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer inte 
blank verse, which he had begun on the 21st of Noveni- 



LP'E OF COWPfiR. . ab 

•ber, ITM. Dumg eight months of this time U9 Wfts 
.hindered by indisposition, so that he was occupied in 
tlio work, on the whole, five years and one mont^. On 
the 8th of Septembfsr the writer of this narratiye had 
Uie gratification to convey it to St. Paul's Church-yaid, 
with a -view to its consignment to the press ; during its 
continuance in which, the translator .gave the worlt a 
second revisal. The Iliad was dedicatod to his young 
noble relative, earl Co^firper ; and the Odyssey to the 
iUustripus lady of whom he thus writes to his kinsmaf 
of Norfolk, on the 2Sth of November, 1790 : f* Wo had 
« visit 01^ Monday from one of the ^rst women in the 
world ', in point of character, I mean, and accomplish 
.menjts, the dowager lady Spencer. I may receive, 
perhaps, some honours hereafler, should my transla 
lion speed according ^ my wishes and the pains I 
.have taken with it ; but shall never receive any that I 
jhall esteem so highly. She is Indeed worthy to whom 
I should dedicate ; and may but my Odyssey prove as 
wortliy of her, I shall have nothing to fear firom the 
critics." Lady Heskelh also paid him this year her 
.usual visit, which extended into the next. 

The year 1791 was marked by the completion of 
the second revisalof his Homer, on the 4th of March -, 
and by the return of the last proof-sheet of that work 
to the publisher on the l$th of June. Also by the 
commencement of his correspondence witii the poet 
Hurdis ; the suggestion of the Four Ages, Infancy, 
Youtli, Manhood, and Old Age, as a subject for his 
muse, by his very pleasing and well informed clerical 
neighbour, Mr. Buchanan of Ravenstone ; and the sea- 
sonable visit of three of his Norfolk relations, Mrs. 
Balls, Miss Johnson, and her brother> in the vacant 
period between the conclusion of his employment U9 
translator of Homer, and the beginning of a new litera- 
ry engagement, which he thus announces to Mr. Rose, 
on the 14tlj of September of this year : " A Milton, ^ 
that is to rival, and, if possible, to exceed in splendour 



36 • SKETCH OF THE 

Boj&tSVa Sinkspeare, is in contemplation, and I am 
in the editor's office, Foseli is the painter. My business 
will be to select notes from others, and to write origi« 
nal notes ; to translate the Latin and Italian poems, 
and to grive a correct text.*' He addressed himself to 
the work with diligence, and by the end of the year 
had advanced te the Epitaphinm Damonis. 

In the early part of 1792 he had to encounter the loss 
of his agreeable associates at Weston-hall, the death of 
Sir Robert Throckmorton baring accasioned their re- 
moval to a seat in Oxfordshire ; an event which he 
tenderly allades to in concluding a letter to the poet 
Hurdia His engagement with Milton, the society of 
lady Hesketh, and of his friend Rose, but more espe- 
cially the consideration of who was to succeed his old 
neighbonrs in the hospitable mansion, namely, the next 
brother of the Baronet,* who was on the eve of mar- 
riage with Catharina, the favourite of the poet, sup- 
ported his spirits at this trjring period. 

The next remaricable feature in the history of Cow- 
per, is the commenceraent of his correspondence with 
Mr. Hayley. The limits* of this narotive wiU not ad- 
mit of a detail of the singular circumstances which 
gave rise to it, but it was scarcely entered upon, before, 
in writing to lady Hesketh, Cowper says of his new 
epistolary acquaintance, ^ I account him the cliief ac- 
' quisitioh that my own verse has ever procured me." In 
the following May, a personal interview took place be- 
tween the two poets, thus noticed by Cowper in writ- 
ing to his kinsman of Norfc^ : '* Mr. Hayley is here 
on a visit. We have formed a fViendship that 1 trust 
will last for life." A few day^ after, Mrs. Unwin was 
struck with the palsy, which deprived her of the pow- 
er of articulation, and the use of her right hand and 
arm. Under the pressure of this domestick affliction, 
he thus writes to Lady Hesketh ; ** It has happened 

• George Courlenay Throckmonon, Esq. now Mr. Courtis- 
Day. 



lifl: of cowper. • 37 

well, tliat of all men liring, the man most qualified to 
assist and comfort me, is here, thou|rh till within thsae 
-few days I never saw him, and a few weeks since had 
no expectation that I ever shoukl. Tou have alrtadj 
fruessed that I mean Hayley !'* 

Early in June, Mr. Hayley left the Lodge, h«iring 
obtained a promise from its inhabitftnta, Ibat if k Bhoold 
please God to continue the convalesceat symptoiDs ol 
Mrs. Unwin, which had begun to be etzhibited, they 
would visit Eartham in the course of the ■omoMr. 
The new guest of Cowper was sncoeeded by the wri- 
ter of this sketch, who, withont coneultiiig the peet, 
ventured to introduce to him Abboti the Painter, one 
' of the most successful artists of that period^ in ■ecor- 
mg to a portrait the likeness of its ori|riiud. In idln- 
sion to the fidelity of the copy he waf then pfodociiqr, 
Cowper playfully says, in a letter to Mr. Hayley, 

Abbott is painting me so true, 
' That (trust me) you would mart, 
AikI hardly kaow at Ihe first view, 
If I vn^hsrefov iheve. 

In the beginning of August, the^ party aot out on their 
way to Eartham, where they arrhrad on the evening 
of tlie third day, and where th« most cordial and af- 
fectionate reception that it was poisftle fbr gveshi to 
^ meet wi^, awaited theto from the owner of that ^' 
gant vHla. This had a happy effect upon the sphrits 
of Cowper, which had been in eome measure depre«« 
ed by the romantick nio^light soraery of the Sussex 
hills, over which he had just passed, and whose hold 
and striking outline so ht surpassing any images of 
the kind with which the last thirty years had present- 
ed him, .lUrried back his recollection to those times 
when he had scarcely known what trouble was. 

In this delightful retreat he remained till about the 
middle of the following month, his kind host Aomg 

Vol. III. 4 



38 SKETCH OF THE 

every thing that even the purest fraternal friendship 
could dictate for the comfort of the poet and his in- 
firm companion ; who were both benefited by his be< 
nevolent exertions, the one considerably in spirits, 
and the other somewhat in health. During the viat 
of Cowper to Eartham, a fine head of him in crayon 
was executed by Romney, who joined the party, as 
did also that ingenious norelist and pleasing poetess 
Charlotte Smith, the "friendly CarwardLac,** of 
Earl's Colne Priory, and the author of " The Village 
Curate," soon after the arrival of the guests from 
Weston. Their society was also enlivened by the en- 
dearing attentions of the amiable and accomplished 
youth, fat whose future enjoyment, after a life of pro- 
fessional labour, the scenery of Eartham had been so 
fbn<IHy embellished by an affectionate parent, but to 
whom Providence allotted an early grave in the very 
same year and month in which the illustrious visiter 
of his beloved father was consigned to the tomb. 

The literary engagements of Cowper while he re- 
sided at Eartham, are thus noticed by hia faithful bi- 
ographer : " The morning hours, that we could bestow 
upon books, were chiefly devoted to a complete re- 
visal and correction of all the translations which my 
fHend had finished, from the Latin and Italian poetry 
of Milton : and we generally amused ourselves after 
dinner in forming together a rapid metrical version 
of Andrdini's Adamo But the constant care which 
the delicate health of Mrs. Unwin required, rendered 
it impossible for us to be very assiduous in study." . 

The termination of their visit to Mr. Hayley be- 
ing arrived, a journey of four day|i restored the party 
to the lodge at Weston ; but not tlie poet to a re- 
> sumption of his Miltonick employment. In addition 
to tlie abovo-mentioned obstacle, the habi«. of study 
had so totally left him, that instead of beginning; his 
dissertations on the Paradise Lost, as he had intend- 
ed, he thus writes to this kinsman^ who had returned 



juiFP OF COWPER. 3p 

Into Norfolk : " I proceed exactly as when you were 
here — a letter now and then before breakfast, and the 
rfeat of my time all holy-day : if holy-day it may be 
called that is spent chiefly in moping and musing, and 
^forecasting the fashion of uncertain evils. ^ " 

On the 4th of March, 1793, he says in a letter to his 
friend, the 'Reverend Walter Bagot ; " While tlie win- 
ter lasted I was miserable with a fever on my spirits ; 
whon the spring began to approach, I was seized with' 
an inflammation in my eyes ; and ever since I liave been 
tble to use them, have been employed in giving more 
last touches to Homer, who is on the point of going 
to the press again." At the request of his worthy book- 
seller, he added explanatory notes to his revision ; in 
allusion to which ho writes in May to his friend Roso. 
" I breakfast every morning op se^cen or eight pages of 
the Greek commentators. For so much am I obliged 
to read in order to select perhaps three or four short 
notes fi)r the readers of my translation." He says to 
Mr. Hayley, in the same month, <* I rise at six every 
morning, and fag till near, eleven, when I breakfast. — 
I cannot spare a moment for eating in the early part 
of the iporning, having no other time to study." The 
truth is that his grate^l affectionate jspirit devoted all 
the rest of the day, fVom breakfast, to tlie helpless 
state of bis aiAictod companion ; of whose similar at- 
tentions to his own necessities he had had such abun- 
dant experience. There can be no doubt that an ar- • 
rangement of this sort was highly prejudicial to the 
beahh of Cowper, and that it hastened the approach 
of the last calamitous attack with which this interest- 
ing sufferer was yet to be visited. For the present, 
however, he was^u^orted under it ; writing pleasantly 
thus to Mr. Hayley in October; "On Tuesday, we 
expect company — ^Mr. Rose, and liawrence the painter. 
Tet cnce more my patience is to be exercised, and 
once more I con made to wish that my face had been 



49 SKETCH OF THE 

moveable y to put on and take off at ; learore, so as ta 

be portable in a band-box, and sent to tl|e artist.** 

In the following month Mr. Hajrley paid his second 
vbit to Weston, where he found the writer of this nar- 
rative and Mr. Rose. ** The latter/' says the biogra- 
pher of Cowper, " came recently from the seat of 
lord Spencer, in Northamptonshire, and commissioned 
by that accomplished nobleman to invite Cowper and 
b^ guests to Althorpe, where my friend Gibbon was 
to make a visit of considerable continuance. All the 
gnests of Cowper now recommended it to him very 
strongly to renttire on this little excursion, to a house 
whose master he most cordially respected, and whose 
library alone might be regarded as a magnet of very 
powerful attraction to every elegant scholar. I wish- 
ed," continues Mr. Hayley, " to see Cowper and Gib- 
boa personally acquainted, oecause I perfectly knew 
the real benevolence of both ; for widely as they might 
differ on one important article, they were both able 
and worthy to appreciate and enjoy the extraordhuury 
mental lowers of each other. But the constitutional 
shyness of the poet conspires with the present infirm 
state of Mrs. Unwin to prevent their mee^og. He 
sent Mr. Rose and me to make his apology for declin- 
ing so honourable an invitation." 

In a few days from this time the guests of Cowper 
left him, and before the end of the year he thus writes 
* to his friend of Eartham : <' It is a great relief to me 
that my Miltoniok labours are suspended. I am now 
busied in transcribing the alterations of Homer, havmg 
fmislied the whole revisal. I must then write a new 
preface, which done, I shall endeavour immediately to 
descant oi\ * The Four Ages.' " 

Instead, however, of recording the prosecution of 
this poem, as the work of the beginning of the follow 
ing year, it becomes the jminful duty of the author o^ 
this memoir to exhibit the truly excellent and pitiaUs 



LIFE OF COWPER. 41 

•nbject of it aa very differently employed, and as coni4 
raencing his descent into those depths of affliction from 
which his spirit was only to emerge by departing' from 
the earth. Writing to Mr. Rose, in January, 1794, he 
says, " I have just ability enough to transcribe, which 
is all that I can do at present : God knows that I write 
at this moment under the pressure of sadness not to be 
described.*' It was a happy circumstance that lady 
Hesketh had arrived at Weston a few weeks previous 
to this calamitous attack, the increasing infirmities of 
Cowper*s aged companion, Mrs. Unwin, having reduc- 
ed her to a state, of second childhood. Towards the 
end of February, tJie eare of attending to his afflicted 
relative was for a short time engaged in by the writer 
of these pages, who had scarcely returned to his pro- 
fessional duties, when, in consequence of an affection- 
OLte summons from Cowper*s valuable neighbour, and 
highly respected friend, the Rev. Mr. Greatheed of 
Newport Pagnel, Mr. Hayley repaired to the Lodge. 
During the continuance of his visit, which was extend- 
ed to several weeks, all expedients were resorted to, 
which the most tender ingenuity could devise, to pro- 
mote the object which had given rise to iC. But though 
the efforts of this cordial and tried friend to restore the 
poet to any measure of cheerfulness, were altogether 
ineffectual, yet, as a reward for his humanity, it pleas- 
ed God to refresh his benevolent spirit, at this time, 
by the success of a plan for the benefit of Cowper, the 
idea of which had originated with himself. The cir- 
cumstance alluded to is thus related by the biographer 
of the poet : << It was on the 23d of AprU, 17d4, in 
one of those melancholy mornings, when his compas- 
sionate friend ladj Hesketh and myself were watching 
together over this dejected sufferer, that a letter from 
Lord Spencer arrived at Weston, to announce the in-' 
tended grant of such a pension from his majesty to 
Cowper, as would ensure an honourable competence 
for tho rendue of his life. This iatelligenre produced 
4* 



A SKETCH OF THfc 

fai the fHen^f of the poet very lively emotions of de- 
fight, yet hiended with p&in almost as powerfbl ; for' 
it was puttfbl, in no trifling degree, tc refieet, that' 
these desirable smiles of good fortune could not im- 
part even a fliint gltnunering of joy to' the dejected 
mvalid. 

'* His friends, however, had the animating hope, that 
a day wonld arrive when they might' see him receive 
with a cheerfbl and joyous gr&titnde, this royal recom- 
pense for merit nniversally acknowledged. They knew 
that v^hen he recovered his snqiended fkoulties, he 
must be particularly pleaeved, to ^nd himself chiefly 
indebted for his good ibrtune to the active benevolence 
f^ that nobleman, who, though not perisonally ac- 
quainted with Cowper, stood, of alV his noble friends, 
the highest in his esteem.** *' He was unhappily disa- 
bled," continueb his biographer, ^ from feeling the fa- ' 
Tour he received, but an annuity of three hundr^ a year 
was graciously secured to him, and' rendered payable 
to his fViend Mr. Rose, as the trustee of Cowper." 

Another extract from Mr. Hayley v^iH advance the 
merftoir to the close of the poeVs residence in Buck- 
inghamshitie. '** From the time when I left my unhappy 
friend at Weston, in the spring of the year 17^4, he 
remained there, under the tender vigilance bf his affec- 
tionate relation, lady Hesketh, tilt the latter end of 
July, 1795 ; — a long season of ihh darkest depression * 
in which the best medicAl advice, and the influence of 
time, appeared equally unable to lighten that afi!ictive 
burthen which pressed incessantly on his spirits." 

A few weeks prior to ^e last mentioned period the 
task of superintending this interesting soflSsrer was 
Again shared with Lady Hesketh by ber former associ- 
ate from* Norfolk ; to whom.it fbrcib y occurred, one 
'day, as he reflected on the inefficac^ of the lur and . 
scenery of Weston in promoting the return of healA 
to his revered relation, that perhaps a summer's resi- 
dence by the sea-side might restore him to the en- 



UFE OF CX)WPER. 49 

i^jJiient of tliat invaluable bksf ing. Lady Hesketh^ 
to whom lie coinmunicate4 this idea, being of the same 
opinion, arrangements were apeedily made for hit 
conducting the two venerable invalids firom Backing-, 
hamshire into Norfolk, whom, afW a residenee there 
of a few months, he hoped to reconduct to the Lodge 
.n amended health and qnnto. 

It was a singulaHy happy circomstance that in thia 
projected departure firom his beloved Weston, neither 
Cowper, nor Mrs. Unwin, nor either of their friends, 
thoUgiit of any thing further than a temporary absence* 
For hod the measure been suggested under the idea of 
a final separation from that endeared residence, which 
was eventually found to have been the intention of 
Providence, the anguish of Cowper in passing for the 
last time over the threshold of his &.vouri|e retire- 
ment, and in taking leave of Lady Hesketh for ever, 
might not only have proved fatal tp the delicate health 
of his affeotionata relative, but have so extended itself 
to the breast of^ia conductor, as to have deprived him 
of the necessary fortitude for sustaining so long a jour- 
ney with so helplese a charge. Nothing of the kind, 
however, having entered into the calculation of either 
party, both the setting out for Norfolk, on Tuesday 
the ^th of July, 1795, and. the subiequent travelling 
thither of three days, were unattetidod with any pecu- 
liarly distressing eircumtftances. 

As it was highly important to g«tard against the ef- 
fect of noise and tnmuH on the diattered nerves of the 
desponding traveller, .care was taken that a relay of 
horses should be ready on the Airiu of the towns of 
Bedford and Cambridge, by which means he passed 
through those places without stopping. On the even- 
ing of the first dhy, the quiet village of St. Neots, near 
Blaton, afforded as conv'enient a resting-place for the 
party as could have been desired ; and the peaceful 
moonlight scenery of the spot, as Cowper walked with 
his kinsman up and down the church-yard, had so 



-"t* 



44 SKETCH OF THR 

favourable an effect on his spirits, that he conversed 
with him, with mach composure, on the subject of 
Thomson's Seasons, and the circumstances under 
which they were probably written. 

This gleam of cheerfulness with which it pleased God 
to visit the afflicted poet, at the commencement of his 
journey, though nothing that may at all compared 
with it was ever again exhilHted in his conversation, is 
yet a subject of grateful remembrance to the writer of 
this sketch ; for though it vanished, from the breast of 
Cowper, like the dew of the morning, it preserved tlio 
sunshine of hope in his own mind, as to the final reco> 
very of his revered relative ; and that cheering hope 
never forsook him till the object of his incessant care 
was sinking into the valley of the shadow of death. 

At the Klose of the second day's journey, the poct- 
and his aged companion found in the solitary situation 
of Barton Mills a convenient place to rest at ; and tlie 
third day brought them to North Tuddenham, in Nor 
folk. Here, by the kindness of the reverend Leonard 
Sfaelfqrd, they were comfortably accommodated with 
an untenanted Parsonage House in which they were 
received by Miss Johnson and Miss Perowne ; the re- 
sidence of their conductor, in thamarket-place ofJSast 
Dereham, being thought unfavourable to the tender 
spirits of Cowper. Of the latter of these ladies, Mr. 
Hayley says, with equal truth and felicity of expres- 
sion, *^ Miss Perowne is one of those excellent beings 
whom nature seems to have formed expressly for the 
purpose of alleviating the sufferings of the afflicted ; 
tenderly vigilant in providing for the wants of sickness, 
and resolutely firm in administering such relief as the 
most intelligent compassion can /supply. Cowper 
speedily observed and felt the invaluable virtues of bis 
new attendant ; and during the last years of his life he 
honoured her so far as to prefer her personal assistance 
to that of every individual ai ound him." 

As the season of the year xvas particularly faVou^ 



LIFE OF COWPER. 45 

Bl|le for walking, the poet was prevailed on, by his 
kinsman, to make frequent excursions of this sort in 
the retired vicinity of Tuddenham Parsonage ; one of 
wnich he extended to the house of his cousin, Mrs. 
Bodham, at Mattis-hall. The sight of his own i>or- 
trait, painted by Abbott, in one of the apartments of 
that residence, awakening in his mind a recollection 
of the comparatively happy moments in which he sai 
for the picture, extorted from him a passionately ex- 
pressed wish, that similar sensations might yet return. 

It being tbndly hoped by his kinsman, that not only . 
this wish, but many more of the same kind, and those 
most sanguine, conceived by himself, might be realized 
by a removal to the aea-sido, he conducted tlie two in- 
valids on the 19th of August, 1795, to the village of 
Mundsley, on the Norfolk coast. They had been there 
but a short time, when his companion perceived that 
there was something inexpressibly soothing to the spirit 
of Cowper in the monotonous sound of the breakers. 
This induced him to coafine the walks of the poet,, 
whom dejection precluded from the exercise of all 
choice whatever, or at least the expression of it, almost , 
wholly to the sands, which at Mundsley are remarkably 
firm and level ; till anr incident occurred wliich intro- 
duced them to the inland, but sti^ pleasing walks of 
that vicinity. The circumstance alluded to is stated in 
the following letter, which, after & long suspension of 
epistolary employment, the poet addressed to Mr 
Buchanan. " It sliows," as Mr. Hayley obs^^es, '^ the 
severity of his depression, but shows also that faint 
gleams of pleasure could occasionally break through 
the settled darkness of melancholy." 

It is introduced with a quotation from the Lycida« 
of Milton. 

" To interpose a little ease. 
Let my frail thoughts dally wiUi false surmise.'' 

" 1 will forget, for a moment, that to whomsoever I 
may address myself, a letter from me can no otherwise 



46 SKETCH OF THfi 

be welcome y than as a curiosity. To you, Sir, I ad 
dress this ; urged to it by extreme penury of employ- 
ment, and tlio desire I feel to loam something of what 
is doing, and has been done at Weston (my beloved 
Weston !) since I left it. 

" The coldness of these blasts, even in the hottest 
days, has been such, that, added to the irritation of the 
salt spray, with which they are always charged, they 
have occasioned me an inflammation in the eyelids, 
which threatened a few days since to confine me entire- 
4y ; but by absenting myself as much as possible from 
the beach, and guarding my face with an umbrella, that 
inconvenience is in some degree abated. My cham- 
ber commands a very near view of the ocean, and the 
ships at high water approach the coast so closely, that 
a man furnished with better eyes than mine might, I 
doubt not, discern the sailors from the window. No 
situation, at least when the weather is clear and bright, 
can be pleasanter ; which you will easily credit, when 
I add that it imparts something a little resembling plea- 
sure even to me. — Gratify me with news from Weston ! 
If Mr. Gregson, and your neighbours the Conrtenays, 
are there, mention me to them in such terms as you 
see good. Tell me if my poor birds are living: I 
never see the herbs I used to give them without a re- 
collection of them, and sometimes am ready to gather 
them, forgetting that I am not at home. Pardon tliis 
intrusion. 

" Mrs. Uawin continues much as usual 
" Mundsleijj Sept. 5, 1795". 

The hopes of the kinsman of Cowper were greatly 
elevated by tlie unexpected despatch of the above epis- 
tle, which he hailed as the forerunner of many more, 
each contributing something to the alleviation of his" me- 
lanclioly. With the exception, however, of two, here- 
after raentioned, it was the only letter which the over- 
whelming influence of his disorder woult suflTer Mm to 
Write in his latter years. 



a 



Liri: OF COWPER. 47 

The effect of air and exercise on tbe dejected poet 
being by no means such as his friends had hoped, 
change of scene was resorted to as the next expedient. 
About six miles to the south of Mundsley, and also oa 
the coast, is a village called Happisburgh, or Hasboro*, 
which, in tho days of his youth, Cowper had visited 
from Catfield,' the residence of his mother's brother. 
An excursion therefore to this place was projected, and 
happily accomplished by sea ; a mode of conveyance 
which had at least novelty to recommend It ; but a gale 
of wind having sprang up, soon after his arrival ihBWO, 
tiie return by water was unexpectedly precluded, and 
ho was under the necessity of effecting it on foot 
through the neighbouring villages. To the agreeable 
surprise of his conductor, this very ccmsiderable walk 
was performed with scarcely any ftitigue to tho invalid 
This incident led to a welcome discovery . namely, 
that, shattered as the person of Cowper was, and re- 
duced even to a consumptive thinness, it yet retained 
a considerable portion of muscular strength. This in- 
duced an extensipn of those daily walks in which the 
vicinity of Munddey was gradually explored. It led 
likewise to a journey of fifty miles in a post-chaise, by 
way of Cromer, Holt, and Fakenham, the object of 
which was to take a view of Dunham Lodge, a vacant 
seat on a high ground, in the neighbourhood of Swaff- 
ham. Cowper observed of this mansion, which was re- 
eently buik by Edward Pftrry, Esq. that it was rather 
too spacious for his requirements; but as he did not 
seem unwilling to inhabit it, hia companion, who con* 
ceived it to be a far more eligible situation for his in- 
teresting charge than his own house in the town of 
Dereham, was induced to become the tenant of it at a 
subsequent period. They proceeded to the last men- 
tioned place, which is about eight miles east of Dun- 
ham Lodge, the samo evening ; and the next day, a 
journey of thirty miles throutrli Reej>ham, Aylshain 
and North Walshnm,.retjini€vd ihcm ssifo to Muudslut 



48 SKETCH OF THE 

Here they reiaained till the 7th of October, the hetlta» 
if not ^e ■pirits of Cowper, being beueiUed by it, 
tfaoagk the infirmttiss of Mrs. Unwin continued the 
•ame. On that liay, the party removed to Dereham, 
aad again, in the course of the month, to Dunham 
Ledge, which ^vas now become their settled reafddnee. 

As the sMsos advanced, the amusenient of walking 
being rendered in^ractieahle, and his spirits being by 
BO aaeaws soffietentiy recovered to admit of his resuoi- 
ing ekher his pen or hie books, the only resource which 
was left to the poet, was to listen inoesssatiy ta the 
reading of his companion. The kind of hooka thai 
appealed most, and indeed solely to attraot hiBi»-were 
wofka of fiction ; and so happy was Ibe inflnenee of 
these in riveting his attention, and i^stracting kim, of 
eoone, from the contemplatton of his miseries, that he 
. ffiscovered a peculiar sattsfiietion when a proAvetion 
- of fancy of more than ordinary Jength was introduoed 
hf his Junsman. This was nd sooner pefceived, than 
he was famished with the volominoiis pa|^ «f Bi- 
ohardaen, to which he listened with the greater inter- 
est, AS he had been personally aeqoaiated with that in- 
geniocii writer. 

At this time the tender spirit of Cowper c^ong ez- 
eeedingly to those about him, and seemed to be hauit- 
ed with a ooatinoal dread that they would leave him 
alone in his sohtary mansion. Bumdaj, therefore^ WM 
a day of more ibajt ordiaiurf appveh^nsion to him ; afl 
the furthest of his kinsman's «h««ches hvo^ liOmin 
miles from the Lodge, hs was neceissarily «hse»l ^mmg 
the wliole of the aabbath. On these oooasiQiis^ it was 
the constant practice of dbe dejected poet to listMi fre- 
quently on the steps of the hall-door for the barking of 
dogs at a farm-house, which, in the stillness of the 
night, though at nearly the distance of two miles, in- 
variably aunouneed the approach of his c(Hnpanion 

To remove the inconvenience of these lengthen^ 
absences, an inquiry was set on foot by the attendant 



LIFE OF COWPER. 49 

•f Cowper for a bouse eqnallj retired with Dunham 
lioUge, but nearer the scene of hia ministerial duties 
The seareh, however) proving; fruitless, he venUned to 
•(msalt his beloved charge, as to how far he could to 
lerate the Dereham residence. To his agreeable sur- 
prmOf he fonad that be not only preferred it to his 
present i^ituation, but, if the questioa had been put to 
him in the first instaace) would never have wished any 
other. It was agreed^ therefore, that as the ensuing 
■ummer v^as to be spent at Mundsley, they should re- 
anain at Dualiam Lodge till that period, and return 
from the sea to Dereham. 

In the inean time, the employment of reading, and, 
as eHen as the weather permitted, excursions on foot, 
or in an open carri«ge> amused the sufferer till the 
eouHnenoement ef 1796; in the month of April of 
which «year Mrs. Unwin received a visit i^rom her 
daughter and sen-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Powley. The 
tender, and even filiid attrition which the compassion- 
. fttfr invalid had never ceased to exercise towards his 
-aged and infirm eompanien, was now cdiared by her 
fJSsetaonate relatives : to whom it could not but be a 
gratifying spectacle to see their venerable parent so 
assiduously watched over by Gowper, even in his dark- 
est periods of depression. The visit of these exem- 
plary persons was productive ^ also of advantage to 
their friends, as the salutary eustora of reading a chap- 
ter in the Bible to her mother, every morning before 
«be Tose, was eoatinued by the writer of this memoir, 
who» ae the poet always vbited the chamber of his poor 
old firiend, the moment he had finnhed his breakfaft| 
took care to read the chapter at thai time. 

It was a pleasing discovery, which the companion of 
Cowper bad now made, that immersed as he was in the 
ileptb of defipondenee, aH the biHows of which had 
gene over his soul, he could yet listen with composuxe 
to the voice of inspuration, of which he had been con- 
ceived to be unwilling to hear evwi the name. Being 

Vol. III. 5 



50 SKETCH OF THE 

enooaraged by the resalt of the above experiment, the 
conductor of the devotions of this retired family Ten- 
tared, in the course of a few days, to let the membeii 
of it meet for prayers in the room where Cowper was, 
instead of assembling in another apartment, as they 
hitherto hod done, under the Influence, as it proved, of 
a misconception, with regard to his ability to attend 
the service. On the first occurrence of this new ar- 
rangement, of which no intimation had boen previoosly 
given him, he was preparing to leave the room, but 
was prevailed on to resume his seat, by a word of sooth- 
ing and whispered entreaty. 

The arrival of Wakefield's edition of Pope^s Homer, 
at Dunham Lodge, in June, 1796, was productive of 
happy consequences to the invalid, by supplying an 
occupation to his harassed mind, which absorbed it 
still more than thai of listening to the works before 
mentioned. These fabrications of fancy, however, 
were not laid aside, but varied with conceptions of a 
much higher order ; even the sublime flights of the il- 
lustrious Greek, to which the attention of his translap 
tor was again awakened, in the following rather singor 
lar manner: 

It was the custom of the poet, <m leaving Mrs. Un- 
winds apartment in the mornmg, to take a few turns 
by himself in a large unfrequented room, which he 
jad to pass in his way back to the parlour. His com- 
panion, therefore, having observed that the notes of 
the ingenious Mr. Wakefield were not without a re- 
ference to the la^iours of Cowper, took care to place 
.the eleven volumes of that editor's recent publicatioA 
in a conspicuous part of this room ; having previously 
hinted, in the hearing of his friend, that there was in 
them an occasional comparison of l^ope with Cowper. 
To his agreeable surprise, he discovered, the next day, 
that the latter had not only found tliese notes, but had 
corrected his translation at the suggestion of somo of 
tliem From the moment that this reviving interest it 



LIFE OF COWPER. 51 

his version of the Iliad and Odyssey was perceived to 
exist in the breast of Cowper, it was vigilantly oho 
rishod by the utmost efforts of his attendant, till, in the 
ensuing August, he had decidedly engaged in a revisal 
of the whole work, aiid was daily producing almost 
sixty now lines. 

Much hope had been entertained by the friends of 
Cowper, that this voluntary resumption of poetical 
employment would have led to his speedy and perfect 
recovery : but the removal of the family in Septem- 
ber from Dunham Lodge, which they now finally quit 
ted, to their temporary residence at Mundsloy, st 
completely dissipated his habitji of attention, tlmt a 
twelvemonth elapsed before he could be again prevail- 
ed on to return to his revision. In the mean time the 
air and walks of that favourite village, both marine 
and inland, were fully tried, till towards the end of 
October, when no apparent benefit having been deriv- 
ed to the dejected poet, by his visit to. the coast, the 
invalids and their attendants retired to Dereham. 

Cowper was scarcely settled in this new habitation, 
(in point of seclusion, the reverse of Dunham Lodge,) 
when his friends had the satisfaction to see that the 
scenery of a town was by no means distressing to his 
tender spirit. Now, to employ the language of his 
Sussex friend, " tlie long and exemplary life of Mrs. 
Unwin was drawing towards a close. The powers of 
nature were gradually exhausted, and on the 1 7th of 
December she ended a troubled existence, distinguish, 
ed by a scblime spirit of piety and friendship, which 
shone through long periods of calamity, and continued 
to glimmer through the distressful twilight of her de- 
clining faculties. The precise moment of her de- 
parture was so tranquil, that it was only marked by 
the cessation of lier breath, as the clock was striking 
one in the afternoon." 

Gentle, however, as were the approaches of the last 
messenger, in the case of this eminent servant of \Jod, 



63 SKETCH OF THE 

and little as, under the ceaseless pressure of his own 
•uiferiugs he had hitherto appeared to notice them, 
they had yet been perceived by Cowper ; for, as t 
faithful servant of his dying friend and himself were 
opening the window of his chamber on the morning of 
the day of her decease, he said to her, in a tone of 
voice at once plaintive, and full of anxiety as to what 
might be the situation of his aged companion, ^ SaUy, 
is there life above-stairs ?" 

From a dread of the effect of such a scene upon his 
mind, the first object of the kinsman of Cowper, who 
had attended him to the bedside of his departing" friend, 
about half an hour before her death, was to reconduct 
his pitiable charge to the apartment below, and in- 
stantly to commence reading. This expedient, so of 
ten resorted to, with a view to composing the spirit of 
Cowper, and generally speaking, with much success, 
was happily e^cacious in the present instance. For 
though the reader had scarcely advanced a few pages 
before he was beckoned out of the room to be informed 
of the death of Mrs. Unwin, he returned to it some 
moments after, without being questioned as to why he 
had left it. Apprehending from this circumstance, 
and from a rapid observation of his countenance with 
every turn of which he had long been familiar, that 
the mind of his beloved relative was perhaps in as fit a 
state for the reception of tlie melancholy tidings, as, 
under the pressure of his calamity, it could be, .the 
writer of this memoir resolved to reveal them. As he 
was sitting down therefore to the book, aad turning 
over the leaves to resume his reading, he observed to 
the poet, with as much cheerfulness and tender con- 
cern as he was able to associate in the same tone of 
voice, that his poor old friend had breathed her last. 

This intelligence was received by Cowper, though 
not entirely withdut emotion, yet with such as was 
compatible with his being read to by his kinsman, who 
had soon the satisfiiotion of seeing his interesting pa* 






LIFE OF COWPKR. 53 

tient ^8 composed as in the time of Mrs. Unwnrtf life. 

Bat the favourable issue of two distressing periods 
was still to be provided for ; his viewing the corpse, 
and its subsequent removal for interment. To meet 
the first of these difficulties, it was judged expedient, 
that the kinsman of Cowper should attend him to the 
chamber of his departed friend, in the dusk of the 
evening, when only an indistinct view of the body 
could be obtained ; and to preclude liis suspicion of 
the other^ the funeral was appointed to take place by 
torch-light. It appeared, however, that there was no 
necessity for the latter precaution, as, after looking at 
the corpse for a few moments, under the circumstance! 
above mentioned, and starting suddenly away, with a 
vehement but unfinished sentence of passionate sorrow, 
he not only named it no more, but never even spoke 
of Mrs. Unwin. 

The funeral was attended by Mr. and Mrs. Powley, 
who had been summoned from Yorkshire within the 
few last days of their parent's life, but had not arrived 
till she had ceased to breathe : also by the vnriter of 
this sketch, and some members of his family. She 
was buried on the twenty-third of December, in the 
north aisle of the church of East Dereham. 

The commencement of the yoar 1797 in no respect 
differed from that of the preceding years of his illness, 
his extreme dejection still continumg, and the only al- 
leviation it was capable of receiving being still the 
listening to works of fiction. As the spring advanced, 
however, he Was persuaded to resume his usual walks, 
a measure to which the situation of the house at East 
Dereham happily presented no obstacles, as though jt 
fronted the market-place, which w)is also the turnpike 
road, it was contiguous to the fields on its opposite 
side. This was equally convenient foK his airings in 
an open carriage, which, from the happy effect of a 
course of ass's milk upon his bodily health, begun on 
the twenty-first of June in this year, ho was enabled to 



64' SKKTCIJ OF THK 

bear, for a few weeks, before breakfast. - This was, 
undoubtedly, the period of his lost deplorable aflic- 
tlon, when the person of Cowper made the nc^arest ap* 
proaches to the appearance it had exhibited before liii 
illnesa. His countenance, from having been extreme- 
ly tliin, and of a yellowish hue, had recovered much 
of its former fulness and ruddy complexion ; his hmbs 
were also less emaciated, and his posture more erect : 
but the oppression on liis spirits remained the same. 
Under these circumstances, it was thought .advisable 
to omit the visit to Mundsley this year, and to take 
the utmost advantage of the rides about Dereham. 

With such recreations, and the never-failing one of 
reading, the summer of 1797 was brought to a close ; 
when, dreading the effect of the cessation of bodily 
exercise upon the mind of Cowper during a long win- 
ter, his kinsman resolved, if it were possible, to rein- 
state him in the revisal ef his Homer. One morning, 
therefore, after breakfast, in the month of September, 
he placed the commentatcurs on the table, one by one ; 
namely, Villoisson, Barnes, and Clarke, opening them 
all, together with the poet's translation, at the place 
where hehadleft.offa twelvemonth before, but talk- 
ing with him, as he paced the room, upon a very dif- 
ferent subject, namely, the impossibility of the 
things befalling him which his imagination had repre- 
sented ; when, as hifi companion had wished, he said 
to him, << And are you sure that I shall be here till the 
book you are reading is finished t" ^' Quite sure," 
repUed his kinsman, '^ and that you will be here to 
complete the revisal of your Homer^" pointing to thu 
bocdLS, " if you will resimio it to-day." As ho re- 
peated these words he left the room, rejoicing in the 
well-known token of their having sunk into the poet's 
mind, namely, his seating himself on the sofa, taking 
up one of the books, and saying in a low and plaintive 
roice, " I may as well do this, for I can do nothing else.* 

It was a subject of much gratitude to the friends of 



LIFE OF COWPER. ' 55 

this amiable and most interesting sufferer, that a mer- 
eiful Providence should again appoint him the employ- 
ment alluded to, as, more than any thing else, it di- 
Tertod his mind from a contemplation of its miseries, 
and seemed to extend his breathing, which was at 
father times short, to a depth of respiration more com- 
patible with ^aso. They had the happiness to see him 
perfectly settled to the work, and persevering in it, 
feeble and dejected as he was, till he brought it to a 
prosperous close. 

In the meantime, the visit to the coast was repeat- 
ed ; not indeed, as in former cases, for a continuance 
there of some months, but with an intention of renew- 
ing it several times in the same season. The series 
of excursions to the marine village of Mundsley com- 
menced in the summer of 1798, and was varied by a 
return to Dereham eight or ten times,*aAer a resi- 
dence of a week by the sea-side. On one of these oc- 
casions he visited the larger of the two Lighthouses at 
Happisburgh ; the extensive prospect from which em- 
bracing a country formerly not unknown to him, hi« 
ccMnpanion conceived might be a subject of interesting 
contemplation. Such in some measure it proved, but 
the attention of Cowper seemed more attracted by 
the apparatus of the building, lamps and reflectors 
having been recently substituted for a fire of coals, in 
describing the passage of that intricate coast. It was 
hoped that this change of place, accompanied also by 
a diversity of objects, might operate happily on the 
mind of Cowper ; and to a certain extent, it did, by 
producing at times, a mitigation of his melancholy 
In this, however, there is no doubt that Homer had a 
considerable share, as he was the constant companion 
of the poet on the coast. The Bfiscellaneous Works 
of Gibbon also, and the Pursuits of Literature, which 
he permitted his kinsman to read to him, contributed 
to the amusement of this period. 

Two occurrences worthy of record, as tostifymg the 



56 SKETCH Ol THE 

regard borne to Cowpcr by his former acquaintanco 
took place this year : namely, the visit in July, of the 
dowager lady Spencer, for whom he had always enter 
tained the most affectionate respect, and that of hia 
highly esteemed friend, Sir John Throckmorton, in 
December. But though the'former had come many 
miles out of her way to see him, and the latter had 
taken a journey from Lbrd Petre's expressly for that 
purpose, the pressure of his malady would scarcely 
allow him to speak to either of these friends, or to ex* 
press a sense of their kind solicitude. 

On a Friday evening, the eighth of March, 1799 ^ he 
completed the revisal of his Homer, and the next 
morning entered upon the now preface, wliich, how- 
ever, he concluded on the following day, so that his 
kinsman beheld him once more without employment. 

But the powers of his astonishing mind were yet to 
bo exercised, and that on a subject altogether of his 
own devising. For though on the eleventh of March, 
his attendant laid before -him the introductory frag- 
ment of his formerly projected poem of Tlic Four Ages, 
he merely corrected a few lines, adding two or three 
more, and declining to proceed, with this remark, 
" that it was too great a work for him to attempt in 
his present situation. " 

In the same manner, several literary projects, 
though of easier accomplishment, which his compa- 
nions suggested to him at supper, were objected io by 
the poet, who at length replied that he had just thought 
of six Latin verses, and if he could compose any thing, 
it must be in pursuing that corapositibn. 

His desk being opened the next morning, and all 
things duly arranged for the purpose, liis kinsman had 
the satisfaction, on his return to the room, to see a 
poem, entitled Monies GlacialeSj commenced, and that 
some ver?es were added to the six before mentioned 
On his attentively considering the title, it occurred to I 
bis companion that, during the reside ice of the poet^. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 57 

At Dunham Lodge, the circumstance which he had be- 
gun to versify, had been read to him in oike of the Nor- 
wich papers, though without its appearing to engage 
his notice. At the request of Miss Perowne, he trans- 
lated this poem into English verse on the l^h of th« 
same month. 

If the friends of Cowper were^not a little surprised, 
that his memory should hare furnished him with a 
subject for his poetical talent, under circumstances so . 
unlikely to favour its exertion, his producing The Cast- 
away the next day, which was founded on an incident 
recorded in Anson's Voyage, a book which he had not 
looked into for almost twenty years, astonished them 
still more. It was, however, the last original poem 
produced by the pen of Cowper. In August he trans- 
lated it into Latin verse. 

On the same day that he began and finished The 
Cast-away f the Latin poems of his favourite Vincent 
Bourne, which he had appeared not unwilling to enter 
upon next, were laid before him, and he translated 
" The ThraeianJ* But as his subsequent productions, 
with their respective dates, are duly specified in the 
following pages, after observing that the poet went in 
October with himself and Miss Perowne to survey a 
much more commodious house in East Dereham, than 
th^ family had hitherto occupied there, and to which 
they removed in December, the wnter of this memior 
will draw it to a close. 

Cowper had not passed many weeks in this new habi« 
tation, when the symptoms of weakness, which he had 
for some time axhibited, assumed a dropsical appear- 
ance in the ancles and feet. Tj arrest the progress 
of this new malady, a physician was called in, on the 
31$t of January, 1800, by the aid of whose prescrip- 
tions, which he was witli difHculty. persuaded to follow, 
and the daily exercise of a post-chaise, the disorder 
yf9.9 so far checked as not to occasion a^y furtlier 
alarm 



58 SKETCH OF THE 

Towards the end of January his attention had been 
recalled to Homer, by a request from his friend of Sus- 
■ex, who wished him to new-model a passage in his 
TraiiAlati<« of the Illiad, where mention is made of 
tho very ancient sculpture in which Dicdalus had re- 
presented the Cretan dance for Ariadno. " On the 
31st of January," says Mr. Hayley, " I received from 
bim his improved version of the lines in question, writ- 
ten in a firm and delicate hand. The sight of mich writ- 
log from my long-silent friend inspired me with a lively, 
but too sanguine hope, that I might see him once more 
restored. Alas ! the verses which I surveyed as a de- 
lightful omen of future letters from a correspondent so 
inexpressibly dear to me, proved the last effort of his 
pen." 

By the 22d of February his weakness had increased 
to such a degree as to be incompatible with tho motion 
of a carriage, which was therefore discontinued from 
that day. 

Ue had now ceased'to come down stairs, though he 
was 8tiU able, after breakfasting in bed, to adjourn to 
a second room above, and to remain there till the even- 
ing. 

Before the end of March he was obliged to forego 
even the trifling exercise connected with this change 
of apartments, and to confine himself altogether Uf his 
bed-room ; in which, however, ho sat up to every meal 
except breakfast. 

About this time he was visited by his friend Mr. 
Rose, whose arrival at the I^odge at Weston he had so 
olVen welcomed with the Queerest deliglit, but whose 
approach he now witnessed with scarcely any perceiv- 
able pleasure. His departure, however, on the 6th of 
Apiil, excited evident feelings of regret inCowper. 

The humane example exhibited by Mr. Rose, m 
this afiectionate visit to the house of a departing friend, 
would have been speedily followed by Mr. Hayley and 
Lady Hesketh, had not the former been prevented by 



LIFE OF COWPER. 69 

, tbo impending death of a darling cbild^ and the latter 
by a state of health too infirm to warraat so long a 
journey, and into which she had iallen soon after the 
departure of Cowper from Weston, in consequence of 
her protracted and painCul confinement with her re- 

. vored relative during the early stage of his calamitous 
depression. 

On the 10th of April the weakness of this tmly piii 
able sufferer had so much increased, that his kinsman 
apprehended his death to be near. Adverting, there- 
fore, to the affliction, as well of body as of mind, which 
his beloved inmate was then enduring, he .ventured to 
speak of his approaching dissolution as the signal of 
his deliverance from both these miseries. Ailerapaxtse 
of a few moments, which was less interrupted by the 
objections of his desponding relative than he had dared 
to hope, he proceeded to an observation more eonsola* 
tory still ; namely, that in the world to Which ho was 
hastening, a merciful Redeemer had prepared unspeak- 
able happiness for all his children — and therefore for 
him. To the first part of this sentence he had listened 
with composure, but the concluding words were no 
sooner uttered than his passionately expressed entrea- 
ties, that his companion would desist from any further 
observations of a similar kind, clearly proved, that 
though it was on the eve of being invested with an- 
gclick light, the darkness of delusion still veiled hiB 
spirit. 

The clerical duties of his attendant oocasimied his 
absence during the greater part of Sunday the 20th , 
but he learned on his return that he had in some mea 
sure revived. He was, however, in bed, and asleep ; 
which induced his kinsman to remain in the room, and 
watch by him. Whilst engaged in this melanch<^y 
office, and endeavouring to reconcile his mind to the 
loss of so dear a friend, by considering the gain which 
that friend would experience, his rel^ections were sud- 
•^enly interrupted by the unusuil and singularly varied 



10 SKETCH OF THE 

time of bis bruathng, which had a ■trikmf resemUanee 
to the conAuwd natea of an organ. Inexperienced a» 
he then was in the diTeraified approacbea of the lait 
■aewenger, he conceired it to be the sound of his Im- 
mediate snmmons, and after listening to it srtpera] 
BMBotes, he arose from the foot of the bed, on which 
he was sitting, to take a nearer, and a last riew of his 
departing relative, commending his soul, in nlence, to 
that gracious Saviour, whom, in the fnhiess of mental 
health, he had delighted to honour. As he put aiMe 
the curtain he opened his ejes ; but closed them with- 
^«t speaking, and breathed as usual. 

In the early part of Monday the Slst, and indeed tiS 
towards the hour of dinner, he appeared to be dying, 
but he so iar recovered as to be able to partake idigbtly 
•f that meal. 

The near approach of his disscdation became more 
and more observaUe in erery succeeding hour of Toes- 
day and Wednesdi^. 

On Thursday the weakness was not st all diminish- 
ed ; but he sat up as usual for a short time in the even- 
hag. 

In the course of tiie night, when he appeared to be 
exceedingly exhausted, some r efr es hm ent was present- 
ed to him by Miss Perowne. From a persuasion, how- 
•▼er, that nothing eouM ameliorate his feelings, though 
without any i^>parent impression that the hand of death 
was already upon him, he rejected the cordial with 
these words, the very last that he was heard to utter, 
« What can it signify ?" 

At fiye in the morning of Friday the ^th, a deadly 
ehange in his features was nbserred to take place. Hb 
remained in an msensible state from ttai time till about 
&ve minutes before five in tho afternoon, -vthan ho ceas- 
ed to breathe. And in so mild and gentle a manner 
did his spirit take ite flight, that though the writer of 
this memoir, his medical attendant, Mr. Woods, and 
IhJree other persons, were standing at the foot and side 



LIFE OF COWPER. 61 

of the bed, with ^heir eyes fixed upon his dyings eoon- 
tenaoee, the precise Bioineiit of his departure was unob- 
served by any. 

From this monmfiil period, till the features of his 
deeeased friend were closed from his view, the express 
sion which the kinsmaA of Gowper observed in them, 
and which he was affectionately deligrhted to suppose an 
index of the last thougrhts and eixjoyments of his soul 
In its gradual ewrwye fn^a the depth* «£ ^eqxmdenoe, 
wis that of calmness and composure, mingled, as it 
Wtr9, ymiit ho|y 8uii>rae. 

He was buried in St Edmund's Qiapel^in the church 
of East Dereham, on Saturday the 2d of May. Over 
kis gtave & moaiiaaent is ensUd^ bearing tfaelbMew. 
ing 'amsoftiiMk, fiKua ths pea of Mr; Ziiyley. 

inlfeMory 
Of Wifiujuc CowrsB, £i^. 
Borm m MeniotdiAan^ WU, 
Buried in this dtor^ 



Tewbawirii wttfiMh tbe ]M>licft tritinipb 9kA 
Of taleiits, cHgBiied by Peered eeal^ 
0010, to dsvotieB^s^banl devoutly josl^ 
F^yeiirfQadttibK«echi0lo£k»i|Kfi'8x^ . 
£i^ai|d, ^Eu2dag i» bis ipodtsi fiime^ 
Ranks with her dearegi soas km f^v^rkf ^9Vi 
Sens^, fancy, wit, suffice not all to raiip 
So dear a title tQ afiection's praise i 
His highest honours to the heart belong ; 
His virtues fbrm'd the magick of his soog, 
VoL.nL 6 



POEMS. 



▼SMS8 TTRrmiN AT BATBy 

ON FINDING THE HEEL OF A 0H<». 

. Mr 1748. 

FoKTvnc 1 I thank Umo ; grenUe Goddewl thankii 
Not that mj Mvae, thon^ baakfol, shall daay. 
She waold hare thanked thee rather, hadst thou cast 
A treasure in her way ; ibr neither meed 
Of early hreakiaat, to dispel the fumee, 
And bowel-raokinf paina of enqitiimssy 
Nor noontide feast, nor eT*sing*s cool repast, 
Hopes wkM from this — ^pzenmptnouB, tho*, perhaps, 
The coi>bler, leather-carvingr artist I might. 
Nathless dbe thanks thee, and accepts thy boon, 
Whatever ', not as erst the &bled cock. 
Vain-glorious fool ! unknowing what he found, 
Spum'd the rich gem thou gaVst him. Wherefore, ah! 
Why not on me that feyour, (worthier «ure !) 
Co4ferr*d*0t thou. Goddess ! Thou art bUnd, thoa 

say'st; 
Enough ! «thy blindness shall eTtcnse the deed. ' 

Nor does my Muse no benefit exhale 
From this thy scant indulgence !— even here, 
Hints worthy «age philosophy are found ; 
Illustrious hints, to moralize my song ! 
This pond'rous heel of perforated hide 
Comport, with pegs indented, muiy a row. 
Haply <£br such its massy form beqyeaks) 
The weighty troad of some rude peasant ck>wn 



1 



STANZAS. 63 

Upbore : on this supported oil, he streteh'd. 
With uncouth strides, along the furrow'd gleba, 
Flattening the stubborn dhd^ till cruel time, 
(What will not cruel time,) on a wry lAep, 
Sever'd the strict cohesion ; when, alas 1 
He, 1^0 could erset, with even, equal pace 
Pursue his destin'd way with symmetry, 
And some proportion ferm'd now, on one side, 
Curtail'd and maim'd, the f^rt of v«|^«it boyS| 
Cursing his frail supporter, treacherous i^op ! 
With toilfknnt steps, and di&uk, morem, on ; ' 
Thus fares it oil with other than the feet 
Of humble villager — the statesman thus, 
Up the steep road, 'where proud ambition leads, 
Aspiriiigi first uninterrupted winds 
His prosperous way ; nor fears miscarriage leal, 
While policy prevaUs, and friends prove true ; 
But that support soon failing, by him left. 
On whom he most depended, basely left, 
Betray'd, deserted ; from^s airy height^ 
Head-long, he falls ; and through the rest of liib. 
Drags the dull load of disappointment on. 



STANZAS 



•KLCCTED FBOM AN 0CCA8I0VAL CDS 09 THX FUtSt 
rUBLICATION OF SIR CHARLBS CmASniSOIf, 

IN 1753. 

To refeoe from the tyrant's sword • 
Th* oppressed ; — vnseen and unimpld^^ 

To dieer the fkee of wo^ 
From lawless insult to def)md 
An orphan's right«<^a faHen friend, 

iljid a ^given fbe ; 



€4 EPISTLE TO ROBERT LLOYD, ESQ. 
These, these distinguiBh fWnaa the crowd> 
And these idoBg, the great and geod. 

The gtuurdians of mankiBd ; 
Who0O bosoms with these yirtues hew^#, 
O, with what matchless speed, tbeyjeavtt 

The moltkiide h^ind I 

THm oak ye, Aron what eaose on ea^ 
Yiitoeii fike these derite thek birth| 

D«nT'd from Heav*n alone, 
FuU oir that farour^ breast th^jr sMie, 
Where ^luth and resignation join 

To eaU the blessiiig down. 

Such is thit hewt :— but wh^ ^e Mum 
Thy tkene, O Ricbaroson, pmhsiaoB, 

Her feeble spirits ftint : 
She cannot teadi, and woiM not WMag, 
That subject of an angel's song, 

The hero, and thfsunt \ 



In epistle 

TO ROBERT LLOYD, ESa 

'1754. 

Ti» tmt that I ^sfgn to roo 
Thee of thy birth-right, gentle Bob, 
For thoa ui borar sole heir, and siafiiai 
Of dewr Mat Priori easy jiagld ; 
Nor that I mean^ while thus I irait 
My thread-bare seBtiments iogatlsor . . 
To show n^ i^mufly or my wit. 
When God and you know I have neither $ 



S ^ L-V 



JEPISTLE TO ROBERT LLOYD, ESQ. 66 

Or such, as might be better shown 

Bj lettmg poetry alone. 

Tis not with either of these fdews. 

That I presom'd t* address the Mnse : • 

But to diyert a fierce banditti, 

(Sworn fees to er'ry thing that's witty !) 

That, with a black, inlemal train, 

Make cruel inroads in my brain. 

And daily threaten to drive thence 

My little garrison of sense : 

The fierce banditti, which I mean. 

Are gloomy thoughts, led on by Spleen. 

Then there's another reason yet. 

Which is, that I may fairly quit 

The debt, which justly became due 

The moment when I heard firom you ; 

And you might grumble, crony mine, 

If paid in any other coin ; 

Since twenty sheets of lead, God knows, 

(I would say twenty sheets i^ prose,) 

Can ne'er be deem'd worth half so much 

As one of gold, and your s was such. 

Thus, the preliminaries settled, 

I fairly find myself pUcMuUledf 

And cannot see, though few see betteri 

How I shall hammer out a letter. 

First, for a thought — since all agree-* 
A thought — ^I have it — ^let me see — 
Tis gone again — ^plagi:rd on't I I thought 
I had it--but I have it not. 
Dame G-urton thus and Hodge her son^ 
That useful thing, her needle,, gone ! 
Bake well the cinders sweep the floor, 
And sift the dust behind the door ; 

* Pitch-ketded, a &vettrite phrase at the time when this 
Epifde was written, expressive of being pozxled, or what, io 
the Spectator's time wmUd have been caHed bctmboo x ltd, 
6» 



06 ePlBTLB TO ROBSRl fa.LO¥lX £S^. 

While eaget Hodge beholds the pi^zo 
In old grimalkm's glnxmg eyei ; 
And gannner finds it on her kneM 
* In every rftining straw iShe sees. 
This simile were npl enongli : 
Bat Fto another, eritiek>proof ! 
The vtrtnoeo thus at noon, 
Broiling beneath a Jnly snh, 
The gilded butterfly piinnxes, 
O'er hedge and diteh, thr6ngh ^|is«ld iM^ 
And after many a rain essay, 
To captfrate the templing prey. 
Gives him at length the lucky pat, 
And has him saft 'beneath his hat : 
Then lifts it gently from the gromid; 
Bat ah ! *tis lost as soon as Ibond * 
Calprit his liberty regains, 
Flits out of sight, aitd moeiks fib |>ttin8. 
The sense was dark r 'twas therefore fit 
With simiie t' ilhistrate it ; 
But as too much obscures the lii^t^ 
As often as too little Hght, 
We have our similes ctit short j 
For matters of more grave import. 
That Mftttiiew^ nos^ers ran wl^ «tiM 
Each ma^i of common Sense agrees; 
All men of common se9se allow, 
That Robert's lines are easy too ; 
Where then the prefrence shall we place. 
Or how do justice in thb case ? 
Matthew (says Fame) with endless pains, 
- Smoothed and refined the meanest strains, 
Nor sufl[er*d one ill-chosen rhyiiie 
T' escape hiin at the idlest lime ^ 
And thus o'er all a liistre cast, ' * 

That, while the iangua^ UvM, i^idl tel^- 
An*t please your ladyship, (quoth I,) 
For 'tis my business to reply : 



J 



JOUENET TO BRUNDUSnjM. 
8«ire flo mach labour, so much toO, 
Bespeak at least a stobborn soil : 
Theirs be the laurel wreath deoreed 
Who both write weU, aad write full 
Who throw their Helicon about 
As freely as a conduit spout ; 
Friend Robert, tkua like Mem 
Lets Ml a poem «m pa3$antj 
Nor needs his gemiuie ore refine i 
Tie leady ^polish'd 0pen the miiM. 



THfi FIFTH SATiAB 

OF THS 

FIRST BOOK OF HOiUiC& 

[Ptinted in BKnibontbo's Hoiwse; J 

1759. 

A immourinu DeMeriftum qftka Jmtitar^g Jfmmte^rom 
Rome i0 Bnmdmtmm, 

*TwA8 a loRg^ jowmej lajr belbM «i) 
When I, and henest Heiiodonis> 
Who far in point of riietorick 
Surptsses every liTing Greek, 
£aeh leaTing our respeotiye hoin«| 
Together sitUied forth from Rome 



m JOURNEY TO BRUNDUSIUM. 

Hrst at Alicia wo alight, 
And there refVesh, and pass the night, 
Our entertainment rather coai^se 
Than sumptuous, but Fve met with worse. 
Thence o'er the causeway soft and fair 
To Appiiforum we repur. 
But as this road is well supplied 
(Temptation strong !) on either side 
With inns commodious, snug, and warm 
We split the joumej, and perform 
In two days time what's often done 
By brisker travellers in one. 
Here, rather choosing not to sup 
Than with bad water mix my cup, 
After a warm debate, in spite 
Of a proToking appetite, 
I sturdily resolv'd at last 
To balk it-, and pronounce a fast, 
And in a moody humour wait> 
While my less dainty comrades bait 

Now o*er the spangled hemisphere 
DlAtfed the starry train appear. 
When there arose a desp'rate brawl ; 
The daves and. bargemen, one and all, 
Renduig theur throats (have mercy on us) 
As if the/ were resolved to stun us,) 
** Steer the barge tbia way to the shore ; 
I tell you we*ll admit no more ; 
Plague ! will you never be content ?" 
Thus a whde hour at least is iqMnt, 
While they receive the several fares, 
And kick the mule into his gears. 
Happy, these difficulties past, 
Could we have fall'n asleep at last ' 
But, what with humming, croaking, biting, 
Gnats, frogs, and all their plagues unitixigf 
These tuneful natives of the lake 



JOURNEY TO BRUNDUSIUM. * 1^9 
Conspir'd to ke^p ua broad awake. 
Besides to make the concert full, 
Two maadlin wights, ezceedingr doU, ' 
The BargemaA and a passenger, 
Each in his turn, essay'd an air 
In honour of his absent fdir. 
At length the passenger, qppieftt 
With wine, left off, and snor'd the reM. 
The weaiy bargeman too gave o*er, 
And hearing his companion snore, 
Setz'd the occasion^ fiz'd the barge, 
Tum'd out bk mirie to graze at larg«y 
And slept forgetful of his charge. 
And now the sun o'tir eastern hitt, 
Discovered that our baige stood still } 
When one, whose anger vex'd him soie, 
With malice firanght, leaps quick on shoiv ; 
Plucks up a stake, with many a thwack 
Assails the mule and driver's baek. 

Then olo^ moving on wkk paia. 
At ten Feronia's stream we gaiiiy 
And in her pur^ and glassy wave 
Our hands and ftces glad^ kve. 
Climbmg tJuee.miles, fair Anznr's height 
We reach, with stcoiy ^piarries white. 
While hero; at was agreed we wak. 
Till, charg'd with butiness of the stats, 
MoBcenas and Coooeius^ coBe^ 
The messengers of peace from Rome 
My eyes, by wat*ry humours biear 
And sore, I with blaek balsam smear. 
At length they Join us, and witii tiwro 
Our worthy friend Fonteius cama ; 
A n^aa of sfK^h oomi^te desert, 
Antony lov'd him at his heart. 
At Fundi, wQ re&is'd to bait, 
And laugh'd at vain Aufidius' state« 



70 JOURNEY TO BRUNDUSIUM. 

A prstor now, a scribe before, 
The purple-boider'd robe he wore, 
His slave the smoking censer bore. 
Tlr'd, at Munsna's we repose, 
At Formia sup at Capito's. 

With smiles the rising mom we greety 
At Sinuessa pleas'd to meet 
With Plotiusy Viirias, and the bard 
Whom Mantua, first with wonder heard. 
The world no purer spirits knows; 
For none my heart more warmlj ghwM. 
O ! what embraces we bestowed, 
And with what joy our breasts o'erilow'd 
Sure, while my sense is sound aisd clear, 
Long as I live, I shall prefer 
A gay, good imtur'd, easy friend, 
To every blessing Heav'n can send. 
At a small village the next night 
Near the Vultumus we alight ; 
Where, as employ^ on state affairs, 
Wo were supply'd by the purveyors 
.Frankly at once, and without hbe, 
With food for man and horse, and-ftr^. 
Capua next day bethnos we reach, ' 

Where Virgil and myself, who each 
Labour 'd with diffisrent maladies. 
His such a stomach, mine such eyes. 
As would not bear stfong exercise.* 
In drowsy mood to sleep resort ; 
Mecenas to the tennis-court. 
Next at Ck>ooeins*8 farm we're treated; 
Above the caudian tavern seated ; 
His kmd and hospitable board 
With choice of wholesome food was st^r'i. 

Now, O ye nine, inq>ire my lays ! 
To nobler themes my fancy rise * 



-ZPCSPSSfSF^ 



JOUEN£y TO BRUNDlfSlUM- n 

Two combatants, who scorn to yield 
The noisy, tongue-^iqpnted field, 
Surmentiui and Cicirrus, claim 
A poet's tribute to their fame ; 
Cicirrus of true Oscian breed, 
Sarmentus, who was never freed. 
But ran away. We dbnt defame him , 
'His lady lives, and still irtoy cklmhim. 
Thus dignified, in harder fray 
These champions their keen wit display, 
And first Sanaentus led the way. 
" Thy locks, (guoth he so rough and coarge, 
Look like the maae of some wild horse," 
We laugk : Cicirrus, undismayed — 
« Have at you !"-*«rie8, and shakes hts heatf. 
" 'Tis well (Sarmentus says) you've lost 
That horn your forehead once oo^ boast ; 
Since, maim'd and mangled as you are. 
Ton seem to butt." A hkieous sear 
Improved ('tis true) with double grace 
The native horrours of his face. 
Well. After much jocosely said 
Of his grim front, so fiVy red, 
(For CadNiacles had bloteh'd it o'er, 
As usual on Campania's shore) 
" Give us, (be cried) siaee yovL*Te so big 
A sample of the Cyclop's jig ! 
Tour shai^ methinks no buskins adc, 
Nor does your phiz requure a marib."- 
To this Cicirrus. *< In Mtnm 
Of you, Sir, now I fiiin would learn, 
When 'twas, no longer deem'd a sUive, 
Tour chains you to the Lares gave. 
For tho* a scrivener's right you ^im, 
Tour lady's title is the same. 
But what could make you run away. 
Since, pigmy as you are, each day 



99B 



73 JOURNEY TO BliUNi>U8IUH. 

A nngle pound of bread would quite 
0*erpow*r your puny appetite !" 
Thuf jok*d the championa, while wm UmgMf 
And many a cheerful bumper qmS^A* 

To BenoTepMun aext w» ateer , 
Where our good host» by ayer cam 
In roasting thrushes lean aa ada^ 
Had almost fairn a sacrifice. 
The kitchen soon was all on firsy 
And to the roof the flames i 
There might you ace each i 
Striving, amidst this aad disaster. 
To save the supper- Then thoy eawa 
With spaed enough to'queneh the fLmob^ 
From hence we first at ^jatence see ' 
Th' Apulian hills, well knewn to me^ 
Parch'd by the SNdtry western hhsl^ 
And which we never fbould have ^tmt, 
Had not Trivioius bj ^* ^^^7 
Receiv'd us at the close of day. 
But each was ibrc'd at ent'rkig 1 
To pay the tribute of a tear, 
For more of smoj^e than fire t 
The hearth was pil'd witb Iqgsso i 
From hence in chaises we were canied 
Miles twenty-four, aaid gladly tanied 
At a small town, wk^fo nune my is i i 
(So barb*rous is it) ean'i rehearse. 
Know it you may hy m»My a sign. 
Water is dearer fiur than wine. 
Their bread is deem'd such dainty flov, 
That ev'ry prudent traveller 
His wallet loads with many a crust 
For at Canusium you might jnst 
As well attempt to gnaw a stone 
As think to get a morsel down ; 



J 



i9URNEY TO BRUNDUSIUM. 
Thui too with scanty streams is fed ; 
Its founder was braire Diomed. 
Good Varius (ah, that friends must port !) 
■ilere left us all with aching heart, 

. At Rubl we arriv'd that day,- 
W«U jaded bjT the fei^ of way, . 
And sure poor mortals ne*er were wetter * 
Next day no weather could he better ; 
No roads fo bad ; we sotMe eoald crawl 
Along to fishy Barium's wall. 
Th' Ignatiaas next, who by the rvles 
Of common sense are knaves or fools, 
Made all our sides widl laughter hearo, 
Since we with them must needs belieTa^ 
That incense in their temples boms, - 
And without fire to ashes turns. 
To eircnmoision's bif ots teQ 
Such tales! £ot mt, I know fuU w«ll, 
That in High Hes(v*n, unnioff'd by < 
The Gods eternal ^uiet share : 
Nor can I deem ^^ vpleen the 4 
Why fickle natwre brmJie her laws. 
Bmndusium last we readh : and ibitm 
Stop short th» jnuM »od icai^elter. 

T01.IU. 7 



THE NINTH SATIRE 

OF TBE 

FIRST BOOK OP HORACE. 

THB PKSCKIPTiON OF AN IMFERTfltEirr. 
AifeirrxD TO THC pRftssKT Ttanrs, 

Savnt'sivo along tho street one day, 
On trifles mnnng by the way— - 
Up steps a free familiar wigiit, 
(I scarcely knew the man by sig-lit.) ' " \ 
" Cailoi, (he cn^A) your hand, my dekr , 
* Gad, I rejoice to meet yon here ! 
Pray Heay'n t see yon wefi^?" »* -So, bo ; 
Ev'n well enough as times new go. 
The same good wiidies, idr, to yon." 
Finding he still piirsa*d me elose^ 
*< Sir, you have business, I suppose." 
'' My business, sir, is quickly done, 
'TIS but to make my merit known. 
Sir, I haye read" — ^*^ O learned Sir, 
You and ydur learning I rerere." 
Then, sweating with anxiety, 
And sadly longing to get free, 
Gods, how I scampered, scuffled for*t, 
Ran, halted, ran again, stopp*d short. 
Beckoned my boy, and puird him near, 
And whisper'd nothing in his ear. 

Teas'd with his loose unjointed chat — 
^ What street is this ^ What house is that 1*' 



INSCRIPTION OF AN IMPERTINENT. 75 

Harlow,, how I envied thee 
Thy unabaeh'd ^f^nUerjp - 

Who dar'st a foe with freedom blaiQei 
And call a ooxcomh ky his nai|ie ! 
When I retorn'd'him answer nonoi 
Obligioglj,thi9 fool Tvi en^ 
'' I see yoQ're diraiaUy distress^dy 
Would give the world to be celeas'd. 
But„ bj jonr leia¥«> six, I ahaU sliU 
Stick to your aluffts^ do what jeu will 
Pray, which loijr dots yow joocnej tcod r" 
<' O 'tis a tedioas way, my friend, 
Across the Thames, ihe Lord knows wheT»» 

1 would not trouble you so far.", 

" Well, Pm at leisure to attend you." 

" Are you 7 (thought I) the De'il bAfriend you." 

No ass with double panniers rack'd, 

Oppressed, overladen, hroken-back'd. 

E'er looked a thousandth pact so dull 

As I, nor half so like a fool. 

« Sir, I know little of myself, 

(Proceeds the pert conceited elf) 

^ If Gray or Mason jou will deem 

Than me more worthy your esteem. 

Poems I write by folios 

As fast as other men write prose ; 

Then I can sing 90. loud, so clear, 

That Beaiid cannot with.me compara.' 

In dancing too I all surpass, 

Not Cooke can move with such a graoe." , 

Heie I made shift with much ado 

To interpose a word or two< — 

** Have yon no parents, sir, no friends. 

Whose welfare on your own depends ?*' 

" Parents, relation, say you ? No. 

They're all disposed of long ago."-^ 

" Happy to be no more perplexed I 

My fate too threatens, I go next. * 



75 DESCREPTIDN OF AN IMPERTIKJBN* 
Despatch me, sir, 'ik bow too kte,. 
Alas t to struck willi my &to ! 
Well, I'flfr Mirvlite*d my tlitte is domi l >"> 
When yoangf a gipsy told> wgy domsk 
The beldame sho^ her palridd liMid^ 
As she peros'd my palm^ aad said : 
Of poison, pestUenee, or tiwri 
Gout, stone defluitoai or MKtatiliy 
Ton havtt no reasea to hewiM. 
Beware the cezeoash*s idle psate > 
Chiefty, my son, h%wwte ef thst. 
Be sure, when yott behold hii% fly 
Out of all Mnhoty o« yon ^^" 

To Rnfiis' HaD we now draw near ; 
Where he was summon'd to appear, 
Refhte the charge the plaintifi' brought 
Or suffer judgment by default^ 
" For Heaven's sake, if you love me, wait 
One moment ! I'll b6 with you straight.'* 
Glad of a plausible preiiBnce— 
. " Sir, I must beg you to dispense 
With my attendance in the court. 
My legs will surely suffer fbr't" 
" Nay, pritliee, OaAoSj stop awhile t»» 
" Faith, sir, in law I have no skilL 
* Besides, I have no timo to spiare, 
I must be going you know where.** 
« Well, I protest, Fm doubtfiil ttow, 
Whether to leave my suit or you !** 
" Me without scruple ! (I teply) 
Me by all mfeans, shr »*''—" No, not I. 
Allans Monsieur!" *Twere vaitt (y&ti kitti#) 
To strive "With a victoriotis £be. 
So I reluctantly obey 
And follow, where he le^s^flie way. 

Tou and Newc^tle are so close. 
Still hand and glove, sir- ^I suppose.-— 



DESaEOFrrON of an impertinent* 77 
Newcastle (let me tett joa, sir) 
Has not Ids «qoa) every wi^e^ < 
Well. There indeed your fortnne's made , 
Faith, sir, fan imderstaBd y«ar trultf. 
Would yoo but give me your good'ivord i ' 
Just intro^ttOtt me to my lord. 
I should servo riiarmin^ by vmy 
Ofsecondfiddloiasthdyeay: ' 
What think yen, «r ? ^were -a gitoA je«t, 
Slife, we should ^cidy^sdoof the rest.**-* 
« Sir, yoa n^slskO'the matter ftr, 
We have no seebnd fiddles thero.-^ 
Richer than I some f^ki may bid ; 
More learned, but H hnrts not me. 
Friends, tho* he has of different kind, 
Each has his proper place assigned." 
** Strange matters these alleg'd by you !"— * 
** Strange they may be, but they are true."— 
" Well, then, I vow, tis mighty clever, 
Now I long ten times more than ever 
To be advanced extremely near 
One of his shimng character. 
Have but the will — ^there wants no more ' 
'TIS plain enough you have the pow*r. 
His easy temper (that's the worst) 
He knows, and is so shy at first.— 
.But such a cavalier as you — ' • 

Lord, sir, you'll quickly bring him to !"— 
*^ Well ; if I fiiil in my design. 
Sir, it shall be no fault of mine. 
If by the saucy servile tribe 
Denied, what think you of a bribe ? 
Shut out to-day, not die with sorrow 
But try my luck again to-morrov^ 
Never attempt to visit him 
But at the most convenient time 
Attend him on each levee day, 
And there uiy liumble duty pay 



TT. DEScauPTioN OF AfT iMPsmaascwr 

Labour, like thb, oar wtal wq^plite ;. 
And they must itooii who mea&te aiefe** 

l/Hiile thm he wSttmi^ htfwtgtt^, 
For vhkk jmH gnam I wieb'd htehaa|^. 
Campley, a friend of ndnei^ eaaae b)r|« 
yVho knew hie hnmoor mote ihm L 
We atop, aalnte, and— ^< why ae ihit, 
FriendCMU»l Whfther aU tiu»haai^^'^. 
Fir'd at the tba^fhtaof a lepiieve, 
I pinch him, pidlhiaif twlteh hia rieevO| 
Nod, beckon,, bite my lipa^ wink^^poHt^ 
Do ev'ry things bat ap ea k plain, aotx • 
While he, aad fkify^fieom the befinning^; 
Detennin'd tomiaUke my menningj . 
Inatead of pitying my coxae. 
By jeering made it ten times worse. 
« Campley^ what aecret,. (p^7 •) was. tha 
Ton wanted to conmrnnioate ?" 
** I recollect. But 'tis no matter. 
Carlos, we'll talk of that hereafter. 
E'en let the secret rest. *TwiUteU 
* Another time,, m^ jnst aa weUr** 

Was ever such a dismaJ dhy f 
Unlucky cur, he steals away. 
And leaves me, half bereft of life. 
At mercy of the butcher's knife ; 
When sudden, shouting from aiar,^ 
See his antagonist appear ! 
The bailiff seiz'd him. quick as thought 
" Ho, Mr. Scoundrel ! are you caught f 
Sir, you are witness to th' arrest." 
" Aye marry, sir, 111 do my best." 
The mob huzzas. Away tiiey trudge, 
Culprit and all, before the judge. 
Meanwhile I luckily enough 
(Thanks to Apollo) got clear off. 



ADDRESSED TO MISS 

ON BEADlKcr 

THE PRATER Y<M Uim¥VS»£RQK. 

Airo dwells ther^ ia » hmah heuif. 

By bounteous heav'n desi^^'d 
The choicest raptures to imput. 

To feel the-moBt rsfis'i^^ 

DwoIIt there a wish iil wad^mbalU^^ 

Its nature to fore^ 
To smother In i^oble rest 

At once botfi bliss and wo ! 

Far be t^ thought^ and fitt th»eiMuf)' 

Which breadws'the lowd«sb#; 
How sweet soe'er the verse complain. 

Though Phoeboflstl^jgr this 1:^0; / 

Come then, fair maid, (hi nattffe yrtmf^- 

Who, knowing theffi, cati tell 
From gen'rous sympathy what joys 

The glowing bosom swelL 

In justice to the Tarious pow'rs 

Of pleasing; which you share, 
Join me, amid your silent hours, 

To form the better prfy*r. 

* For Mrs. Qrevilie^s Ode. lee AmM RsKiitef, ^oL ▼ p 
SQ2. 



ADDRESS TO MISS 

With lenient balm, may OhWon hence 

To fairy land be driv*n ; 
With or'ry herb that blunts the sense 

Mankind receiv'd from heav'n. 

^ Oh ! if my soylrei^ Author pleaeoi 

Far be it from my fate, 
To live, unblest, in torpid ease. 

And dumber on in state. 

Eaeh tender tie of life defied 
Whence social pleasures spring, 

Unmov'd with all the world beside, 
A solitary thing — " 

Some Alpine mountain, wrapt in enow» 
Thus braves the whirling blast. 

Eternal winter doom'd to know, 
No genial spring to taste. 

In vain warm suns their influenos shed, 

The zephyrs sport in vain, 
He rears, unchanged, his barren head; 

Whilst beauty decks the plain. 

What tho' in scaly armour drest. 

Indifference may repel 
The shafls of wo — in such a breast 

No joy can ever dwell. 

"Tis woven in the world's great plan, 
And fix'd by heaven's decree. 

That all the true delights of man 
Should spring from Sympathy, 

*Tis nature bids, and whilst the laws 

Of nature we retain, 
Our self-approving bosom draws 

A pleasure from its pain. 



ABDRESS TO MISS ^ 81 

Thus grief itseif has comfoYts dear. 

The sordid never know ', 
An ecstas/ attends the tear,^ , 

When Virtue bids it flow»^ 

For, when it streams freitt that i»tir6 settit« 

No Jbribes the heart can wiD» 
To check, or alter firofia ks course 

The luxury within. 

J^eace to the phlegm of sullen elves, 

Who, if from labour eas'd, 
Extend no care beyond themselves, 

Unpleasing and unpleas'd. 

Let no low thought suggest the prayer, 

Oh ! grant, kind hcav'n, to me. 
Long as I draw ethereal air. 

Sweet Sensibility. 

Where'er the heavenly nymph is seen, 

With lustre-b^amin^ e^e, 
A train, attend&nt on theb C[tre«M, 

(Her rosy chorus) fly. 

The jocund Loves in Hymen's band. 

With torches ever bright. 
And gon'rous Frieadsfaap- hand in hand 

With Pity's wat'ry sight. 

The gentler virtues too are join'd, 

In youth immortal warm, 
The soft relations, which, combin'd, 

Giv9 lifii hw ev'ry^ charm. 

The a»ts ooac flWiling in the closer, 

And lend CQlefl^ad fire, 
The marWo breathes, the canvass glow% 

The moads sweep the lyre. 



# 



TRANSLATION FROM VlftQH* 
" Still may my nteking boaom cleave 

To sufferings not my own, 
Ayd still the sigh responsive, liearoy . 

Where'er is heard a groan* 

S3 Pity shall take Virtae'a part, 
Her natural ally, -* 

And fashioning my soften'd heart, 
Prepare it for the sky/' 

This artless vow may heav'n receive, 
And you, fond maid, approve : 

So may your gdiding angel give 
Whatever you wish or love. 

So may the r6sy-finger*d hours 

Lead en the various year. 
And ev*ry joy, Which now is yours, 

Extend a larger sphere. 

And tons to come, as round they wheel 

Your golden moments bless, 
With all a tender heart <ian feel, 

Or lively fancy guess. 



TRANSLATION FROM VlRGIU 

MWEID, BOOK Tlllk UfflB 1& 

Tbvs Italy was moved— nor ^id the chie^ 
£neas, in his minc^less tumult 'feel. 
On every .sidejus anJEious thought he tuns, 
ResUesfl^ unfit, not knowing virhat to choose* 



TltAN8LATK»N PROM VTRGIL. 88 

And as a dtterti that in brim of brass 
Confines the erjstal flood, if cbanee the son 
Smile on it, or the moon's resplendent orb, « 
The qaiv'ring light now flashes on the wdkr. 
Now leaps uncertain to the ranlted roof: 
Such were the wavering molions of his nmid. 
Twas night — and weary nature tank to rest, 
The birds, the bleating flocdcs wei« heari no inor«« 
At leagfth, on the cold ground, beneatli the damp 
And dowj vaalts,<ftst by the rivmr's brink, 
The Father of his country sought repose. 
When lo ! among the spreading poplar boogbs^ 
Forth from his pleasant stream, propitious rose 
The god of Tiber : clear transparent gauze 
Iilfdds his loiils, his brows with reeds are crown'd : 
And these his gracioaawobrda to sooth his caw ; ' 
** Ha«^en>bom, who bringVrt oor kmdffed hovM again 
Rescued, and gif^atemity to Troy, 
Long have Laurentam ancttiie Latiaa plains 
Expected thee ; behold thy fix'd abode. 
Fear not the thieats of war, tbe storm is past'd, 
The gods appeased. Fov pfroof that what thoa hear'st 
Is no vain forgery er4eiasive dream, 
Beneath the grove that borders my green bank, 
A milk-white swine, with thirty milk-white yoang, 
Shall greet thy wondering eyes. Mark w«ll the place, 
For 'tis thy i^iee.of rest.: .thqro end thy toils : 
There,'jlhrice. ten years eli^*d, fiiir Alba's walls 
Shall rise, fair Alba, by Ascanms* hand. 
Thus shall it be— i^ew listen, while I teach 
The means t^ ascompli^ tlase events athand. 
Th' Arcadians here, -a race frcnn Pallas t^mag, 
Following £vaBdeHa standard and his &to. 
High on these mountains, a well chosen spot. 
Have built a eii^r ^'^r their Grandsire'a sake. 
Named Pallanteum. These, perpetpal war 
Wage with tha>Laitaas : join'd iiriiithfhl leagoo' 
And arms oonifiBd*rate,add them to ymm eaaip. - • 



■' ^ ' ■ ■ ^' a ■ s:.g; 



M TBAH8LAT10N FROM VIRGfl^. 

Mysolf, between mj wiadiog btzdu^ wHl WfmM 

Tour well-«Hr*dlMiii» lo steoi th' opposbf iid«» 

Rise, goddeM-ban^sarifle ; ium} wilb Ui^^iib 

Declining wtma, woek Jmio w ^ pniyVi 

And ranquish ^ liar «rtlh vitk mppiiiil iwhp»« 

When c oaq aii t 9tmnm ll»«» thmt twpowibnf Jfti. 

I am the Tiber, vhoae ^vmhmn etnetM 

HeaT^B fitvuofff ; I irillb^«afMkme flood divide 

Theae grtaajr b«ik», oad filoMPO tbs ifvitfei nMMMlii 

My maniion, Thia i mnA iotbf oitiea cvovb 

My foontainaMa^^-^fiie o|K>koaMl aoogbt tim deep. 

And ploag'd lua ^mm hmmmtk the itong' flood. 

JEneaa «l Ifao tBemisg daav&avnbe, 

And riamg, witb lyiiftad eye he^ld 

The otteiit ava, ttei dipped him palmByaad nawifM 

The braMBing atraorn, and thaa a^faieaa^d tfie ^kieft; 

^ Te nynpha, Xitiuemtaoa nyvipha, mbo fiaod4be«B0iei 

Of many a atreainy an4 ihev, vitb tfiy Woaa'd flood, 

O Tiber, heor^ aeoapt no» and. a^brd, 

At lengtii afford, a abdtec from aojr woeo. 

Where'eiitt aeocei aavnaundtt gfonnA, 

Thy waten deep, vhero^ 4hey apiiBgio Ugfaty - 

Since thoa hast pi^ lor a vxafeek l&e me. 

My ofTiMfi omI mf Tova ahaU wait thee aliL 

Great hemed Father of fieapenan flaada, 

Re graeioaa nov and ratify 4iy mcd." 

He said, and chiaee two g^ea frena lua fleel. 

Fits them ivuith oan, and elothea the omw ia4maa, 

When lo ! aatglwahing and pfeap&goight. 

The milk-white 4am, with hot iwipetlod broedt 

Lay atretah'd apon Utt <faaidi, henooth the gaoMt 

To thee, Ihe pimu Prmce, i«ie, 4p thoa 

Devotes thorn idl, all om tiuae altar Uaod. 

'fhat live-long night eid Tiber amoeth^ hia floods - 

And 8o reiattain'td it, that it aeom^ to i 

Motionless aaapQcl^ or sileat kke. 

That not a billow might reiist UMur < 

With cheoBf wIjmnnd^ wriiealaMaP i 



=2s£2:rr^ 



*llAN9LATION FROM VIR-GIL. tB 
Their "rofttge ih^y hegm ; tire pitchy kcBi 
Slides through the getttle ^ep^, the qtdet ^f efttti 
Admires tii' unwonted bortben t)mt it h6HHj 
Well polidt*d ttrms, ftnd teasels i^idttted gky. 
Beneath the shsde of varioiiB tt^es, b^tweefl 
Th' umbrageous brafuehes of th6 tfpt«tditt^ gM%t 
They cnt their Hqtiid ^Wy, nor nfeiy, nof night 
They slack their eotirs^i nnwindifig tothfey go 
Th0 long mdiikhderA of lixe pe^HefiA t!^. 

The glowhig son wab in metifthm l^^gtt, 
Whett ftttm sifer they saw the hmnbfef wiifls, 
And the few scatleT'd bo^agM, Which now 
The Roman poWr has eqixaH'4 With thte tjlotids"; ^ 

But such was then Brknd^rli scant domttin, 
"fhey steer to shore, krtd hasten to the iown. 

It chaneM th' Area^ttSM ttiotiardi dn thftt dUKjty 
Before the wails, bendath a shady ^6V%, 
W«»«elebrttt^g high, in ioltfitM ibfte/t, 
Alcidei and his tutelary gods. 
Pallas, his son, Wfts there, aad there the otrtef 
Of all his youth 5 wk^ these, a Wotthy tribe, 
His poor but Yeuerable sen&te, bumt 
Sweet incense, and theit altars smok'd %lth 'bicrod. 
Soon as t3i6y iMiw ^e tow*rhtg inftsts apt^Mtich, 
Sliding between the Ireefs, ^tMU the creW fdiTt 
Upon their silent olun, luAaked they rMe, 
Not without fear, and iill.^brsook the feast. 
But Palhui^ undismayed, his ]at*nti iieit'd, 
Rush'd to the bank, and from n tifsmg' grotttid 
Forbad them to di^tutb ^^ Wttod rites. 
" Ye titnaget youth I WlUit prompts you to 63cpldlfe 
This untried way ? and lather do yt ntb^ f 
Whence, and Who are ye ? Brtng ye peace or irtit ?*. 
iEaeas from his bfty deek holds fbrth 
The peaceftil cdive^braneh, and ihus Yeplies : 
** Trojans, and enemies to the Latian state, 
Whom they whh unprovok'd hostilities 
Have driv'n away^ thou Me*st. We seek Etander— 

Vol. III. 8 



iS TRANSLATION FROM VlROlf . 

Bmy tbif — and lay, besides, the Trojan chiefii 

Are eome, and seek his friendship and his aid." 

PaHms with wonder heard that awful name, 

And " whosoe'er thou art," he cried, *^ come forth ; 

Bear thine own tidings to my Father's ear, 

And be a weUuime guest beneath our roof." 

He said, and press'd the strai^r to his breast : 

Then led him from the river to the grove, 

Where, courteous, thus JEneaa greets the king : 

^ Best of the Grecian race, to whom I bow 

(So wills my fortune) suppliant, and stretch fotih 

In sign of amity this peaceful branch. 

I fear'd thee not, although I knew thee well 

A Grecian leader, bom in Arcady, 

And kinsman of th' Atridas. Me my virtue, 

That means no wrong to thee — ^the Oracles, 

Our kindred families allied of old, 

And thy renown diffus'd through ey'ry land, 

Have all conspired to bind in friendship to thee, 

And send me not unwilling to thy shores. 

Dardanus author of the Trojan state, 

(So say the Greeks,) was fur Electxa's son ; 

Electra boasted Atlas for her sire, 

Whose shoulders high sustain th' ethereal orbs. 

Your sire is Mercury, whom Maia bore, 

Sweet Maia, on Cyllene's hoary top. 

Her, if we credit aught tradition old, 

AUaa of yore, the self-same Atlas, claim'd 

His daughter. Thus united close in blood, 

Thy race and ours one common ure confess. 

With these credentials fraught, I would not send 

Ambassadon^ with artful phrase to sound, 

And win thee by degrees— but came myself— 

Me, therefore, me thou see'st ; my life the stake 

'TIS I, JEnoas, who implore thine, aid. 

Should Daunia, that now aims the blow at thee, 

Prevail to conquer us, nought then, they tliinl 

Wjl) Kinder, but Hesperia must be theirs, 



J 



TRANSLATION FROM VIRGIL. 87 

All theirs, from th* upper to the nether sea. 
Take then our friendship, and return us thine. 
We too have courage, we have noble minds, 
And youth well tried, and ezercis*d in arms." 

Thus spoke JEneas — He with fix'd regard 
Burvey*d him speaking, features, form, and mien. 
Then briefly thus — " Thou noblest of thy name, 
How gladly do I take thee to my heart, 
How gladly thus confess thee for a friend ; 
In thee I trace Anchises ; his thy speech. 
Thy voice, thy count'nance. For I well rememboi 
Many a day since, when Priam journey 'd forth 
To Salamis, to see the land where dwelt 
Hesione, his sister, he pushed on 
E'en to Arcadia's frozen bounds. Twas then 
The bloom of youth was glowing on my cheek ; 
Much I admired the Trojan chiefs, and much 
Their king, the son of great Laomedon, 
But most Anchises, tow'ring o'er them all. 
A youthful longing seiz'd me to accost 
The hero, and embrace him ; I drew near, 
And gladly led him to the walls of Pheneus. 
Departing, he distinguish'd me with gifts, 
A costly quiver stored with Lycian darts, 
A robe inwove with gold, with gold emboss'd, 
Two bridles, those which Pallas uses now. 
The friendly league thou hast solicited 
I give thee therefore, and to-morrow oil 
My chosen youth shall wait on your return. 
Meanwliile, since thus in friendship ye are come, 
Rejoice with us, and join to celebrate 
These annual rites, which may not be delay'd, 
And be at once familiar at our board.'* 

He said, and bade replace the fbast removed ; 
Himself upon a grassy bank disposed 
The crew, but for ^neas order'd forth 
A couch, spread with a lion's tawny shag. 
And^bade him share the honours of his throno. 



J8 TRANSLATION FEOM VIRQILu 

Th' appointed youth with glad alacrity 
Assist the laboring priest to load the board 
With roasted entrails of the slaughtered beevos^ 
Well kneaded bread and mantling bowls. Well pl«a9*d 
JEneas and the Trojan youth regale 
On the huge length of a woU-p&itar'd chine. 
Hunger appeased, and tables all despatched* 
Thus spake £yander : " Superstitioi^ Iiere, 
In this our solemn feasting, has no part. 
No, Trojan friend, from utmost danger anty'di 
In gratitude this worship we renew. 
Behold that rock which nods above the vale. 
Those bulks of broken stone dispars'd around^ 
How desolate the shattered cave appears, 
And what a ruin spreads th' encumber'd plain. 
Within this pile, but far within, was once 
The den of Cacus ; dire his hateful form, 
That shunned the day, half monster and iialf man. 
Blood newly shed streamed ever on the ground 
Smoking, and many a visage pale and wan 
Nail'd at his gate, hung hideous to the sight. 
Vulcan begot the brute : vast was his size, 
And from his throat he belched hb father's fire*. 
But the day C9.me Uiat brought us what we wish*d| 
Th' assistance and the presence of 9. God. 
Flush'd with his vict'ry ai>d the spoils he won 
From triple-form'd Geryon, lately slain, 
The great avenger, Hercules appear'd. 
Hither he drove his stately bulls, and pour*d 
His herds along the vale. But Uie sly thief 
Cacus, that notlnng might escape his hand 
Of villany or fraud, drove from the stalls 
Four of the lordliest of his buUs, and four 
The fairest of his heifers; by ihe tail 
He dragged them to lus den, and there conceII*4| 
No footstep might betray the dark abode. 
And now his herd with provender sufficed 
Alcides would be gone ; they as they went 



TRANSLATION FROM VIRGIL. i 
Still bellowingr lood, made the deep echoing woodi^ 
And distant hills resound : when hark ! one oz. 
Imprison'd close within the vast recess, 
Lows in return, and frustrates all his hope* 
Then fury seiz'd Alcides, and his breast 
With indignation heav'd ; grasping his club 
Of knotted oak, swift to the mountain top 
He ran, he flew. Then first was Cacus seo» 
To tremble, and hia eyes bespoke his fears. 
Swift as an eastern blas^ he sought his den^ 
.And dread increaslag, wing'd him as he wenL 
Drawn up in iron slings above the gate . 
A rock was hung enormous. Such his haste, 
He burst the chains, and dropp'd it at the door, 
Then grappled it with iron work within 
Of bolts and bars by Vulcan's art contriv'd. 
Scarce was he fast, when panting for revenge 
Came Hercules ; he gnashed his teeth with rage. 
And quick as lightning glanc'd his eyee u^und 
In quest of entrance. Fiery red, and stin^ 
With indignation, thrice he wheeFd his course 
About the mountain ; thrice, but thrice in vainy . 
He strove to force the quarry at the gate, . 
And thrice sat down overwearied in the vale. - 
There stood a pointed rock, abrupt and rude . ^ 
That high o'erlook'd the rest, close at the bock . 
Of the fell monster's den, where birds .obscene . 
Of ominous note resorted, choughs and daws. 
This, as it lean'd obliquely to the left. 
Threatening the stream below, he fvom the righi 
Push'd with his utmost strength, and to and fro 
He shook the mass, loos'ning its lowest base ; 
Then shov'd it from its seat ; down fell the pile i 
Sky thunder'd at the fall ; the banks give way, 
Th' affrighted stream flows upward to his source 
Behold the kennel of the brute expos'd, 
The gloomy vault laid open. So, if chance 
8» 



90 TRANSLATION FliOM ViaG^L.- 

£arth yawning to the centre should disclose 

The mansions, the pale mansions of the dead; 

LoathM by the Gods, such would the gulf appear, 

And the ghosts tremble at the sight of day. 

The monster braying ynih unusual din 

Within his hollow lair, and sore amaz'd 

To lee such sudden inroads of the light, 

Alcides press'd him close with wh^t at hand 

Lay readiest, gtumps of trees, and fnigments huge 

Of millstone size. He, (for escape was none) 

Wondrous to tell ! forth from his gorge discharged 

A smoky cloud that darkenM all the den ; 

Wreath after iirreath he vomited amain 

The smoth'ring yapQur, mix'd with fiery sparks. 

No sight could penetrate the yeil obsQUre. 

The hero, inore provoked, endur*d not this, 

But, with a hea(U(>ng leap, he rushed to where 

The thickest cloud envelop'd his abode. 

There grasp'd he Cacijs, spite of all his fires, 

Till crtisUjkwithin his arms, the monster shows 

His bloo^ra throat, now dry "with panting hard. 

And his prei^s'd eyeballs start. Soon he tear? dowi;i 

The barricade of rock ; the dark .abyss 

Lies open, and th' imprisoned bulls, the theft 

He had with oaths denied, are brought to ligfhi: 

By th' heels the miscreant carcass is dragged fojth. 

His face, his eyes, all terrible, his breast 

Beset with bristles, and his sooty jaws 

Are view'd with ponder never to be cloy'4. 

Hence the celebrity thou seest, and hence 

This festal day, Potitius first enjoinM 

Posterity these solemn rites, he first 

With those who bear the great Pinar^an nuae 

To Hercules devoted, in the grove 

This altar built, deem'd sacred in ihe highest 

By us, and sacred ever to be deepi'd. 

Come then, my fnends, and bind your yotttfafi^ broiii^ 



J 



TRANSLATION FROM VIRGIL 91 

In praise of such deliv'rance, and hold forth 
The brunmiiig cup : your deHies and ouri 
Are now the same ; then drink, and freely too. 
So saying, he twisted round his rer'rend lofkm 
A variegated poplair wrettth, and fiU*d 
His right hand with a consecrated bold. 
At once all pour libations on the board. * 

All o£fer pray'r. And now the radiant fiph^te 
Of day descending, eventide drew near. 
When first Potitius with the priests advano^d, 
Begirt with skins, and torches in th^ hands. 
High pUed with meats <^sav'ry taste, they ranged 
The chargers, and renewed the grat^ul feast. 
Then came the Salii, crowned with poplar too 
Circling the blazing altars ; here the youth 
Advanced, a choir harmonious ; there were heard 
The reverend seers respoauive ; praipe the j song, 
Much pr^se in honour of Alcides' deeds ; 
How first, with inBixA gripe, two serpents huge 
He strangled, sent firam Juno ; next ihey sung, 
How Troja and the Oechalia he destroyed, 
Fair cities both, and many a toilsome task 
Beneath Eurystheus, (so his step-dame will'd) 
Achiev'd^fictorious. Thou, the eloud-bom pMT, 
HyUeu* ^elroe and Pholos, moivtrous twins, 
Thou alew*8t the Minotaur, the plague of Crete, 
And the vast Ikm «f the Nemean rook* 
Thee HeU, and Cerberus, Hell's porter, feared, 
Stretch'd in his den upon his ha]f-gnaw*d bones. 
Thee no abhorred iferm, not e*en the vast 
Typhoeus could appal, though clad in arms. 
Hail, true bom son ^ Jove, among the Gods 
At length enrolled, nor least illustrious thou, 
Haste thee propitious, and approve our songs ;" 
Thus hymn'd the chorus ; above all they idng 
The cave of Cacus, and the flaines he breath'd. 
.The whol» grov« echoes, and the hills rebound. 



92 . TRANSLATION FROM VIRGIL. 

The rites performed all hasten to tlie town. 
The king, bending with age, held as he went 
Eneas and his Pallas by the hand, 
Vith much vaiioty of pleasing l;alk . ^ 
Short'ning the way. ^neas, with a smile, 
Lodks round hira, charm'd with the delightful scent 
And many a question asks, and muph he learns 
Of heroes far renown'd in ancient times. 
Then spake Evander. These extensive groves^ 
Were once inhabited by ^wns and nymphs 
Produced beneath their shades, and a rude rac0 
if men, the progeny uncouth.of elms 
And knotted oaks. They no refinement knew 
Of laws or manners civilized, to yoke 
The steer, with forecast provident to store 
TJie hoarded' grain, or manage what they had, 
tint browsed like beasts upoh the leafy bougbii, 
Or fed voracious on their hunted prey. 
An exile from Olympus, and expell'd 
His native realm by thunder-bearing Jove, 
First Saturn came. He &om the mountains drew 
This herd of men untraciable and fietce, 
Ad gave them laws ; and called his hidingi>lace| 
nis growth of forests, Latiun^. Such the p6ac« 
His land possessed, the golden age was then, 
So fam'd in story ; till by dow degrees 
Far other times, and of far diff rent hue, 
Succeeded thirst of gold and thirst of blood. 
Then came Auaoman bands, andaj-med Hosts 
From Sicily, and Latium often changed 
Her master and her name. At length aro^O 
Kings, of whom Tibris of gigantick form - 
Was chief, and we Italians since have call'd 
The river by his name ; thus Albuk, 
(So was the country call'd'in ancient days) 
Was quite forgot. Me from my native land 
An exile, thro' the dang 'reus ocean driv'Sf 



J 



=?ac: 



TRANSLAIION FROM VIRGIL. . 93 

' Resistless fprtune an<l relentless fate 
Placed where thou see'pt me. Fhcebus, and 
The nymph Carmentis, with maternal care, 
Attendant on my wand'rlngs, fix'd me here. 

{Ten lines omitted.} 

He said, and show'd him the Tarpeian rock, 
And the rode spot, where now the capitol 
Stands all magnificent and bright with gold, 
Then overgrown with thorns; And yet e*en then 
The swains beheld that sacred scene with awe ; 
The grove, the rock, inspired religious fear. 
This grove, he said, that crowns the lolly top 
Of this fair hill, some deity, we know, 
Inhabits, but what deity we doubt. 
Th' Arcadians speak of Jupiter himself. 
That they have often seen him, shaking here 
His gloomy £gis, while the thunder-storms 
Came rolling all around him. Turn thy eyes, 
Behold that ruin ; those dismantled walls, 
Where once two towns, laniculum — 
By Janus this, and that by Saturn built, 
Satumia. Such discourse brought them bencat^ 
The roof of poor Evander, thence they saw^ ^ 

Where now.tne proud and stotely foruni stands, 
The grazing herds wide scatter'd o'er the field. 
Soon as he entered — Hercules, he said. 
Victorious Hercules, on this threshold trod, 
These walls contaiu'd him, humble as they ara 
Dare to despise n^agn^ficence^ my friend, 
Prove thy divine descent by worth divine, 
Nor view with haughty scorn this mean abode. 
So saying, he led JEneas by the hand. 
And placM h^m on a cushion stuflfd with ieavet, 
Spread with th9 skin of a Libistian bear. 

[TAe Episode of Ventis and Videan ondtt4d\ 



H TRANSLATION FROM OV.B. 

While thus in Lemnos Vulcan was employed 
Awakened bj the gontle dawn of day, 
And the shrill song of birds beneath the eayei 
Of his low mansion, old Evander rose. 
His tunick, and the sandals on his feet, 
And his good sword well-girded to his side, 
A panther's skin dependent from his left. 
And over his right shoulder thrown aslant, 
Thus was he clad. Two mastiffs follo^ved him, 
His whole retinue and his nightly guard. 



OVID. TRIST. LIB. V. ELEG. XII 

ScribiSy ut oblectem, 

Tou bid me write t'amuse the tedious hours, 
And save from'with'ring my poetick pow'rs. 
Hard is the task, my friend, for verse should fioir 
From the free mind, not fettcr'd down by wo ; 
Restless amidst unceasing tempests tost. 
Whoever has cause for sorrow, I have most. 
Would you bid Priam laugh, his sons all slain^ 
Or childless Niobe from tears refrain, • 
Join the gay dance, and lead<the festive train i 
Does grief or study most befit the mind, 
To this remote, this barb'rous nook confined? 
Could you in^rt to my unshaken breast, 
The fortitude by Socrates possessed. 
Soon would it sink beneath such woes as mine, 
For what is human strength to wrath divme ? 
Wise as he was, and Heav'n pronounc'd him so^ 
My sufferings would have laid that wisdom low. 
Could I forget ray country, thee and all. 
And e'en th' offence to whicH I owe my fall. 



i 



TRANSLATION FROM OVID. dft 

let foar alone would freeze the poet's vein, 
While hostile troops swarm o'er the drearj plain 
Add that the fatal rust of long disuse 
Dnfits me fbr the serrice of the muse. 
Thistles and weeds are all we can expect 
From the best soil impoY^isM by neglect ; 
Unexercised, and to his stall confined, 
The fleetest racer would be left behind ; 
The best built bark that cleaves the wat*ry way, 
Laid useless by, would moulder and decay — 
No hope remains that time shall me restore, 
Mean as I was, to what I was before. 
Think how a series of desponding cares 
Benumbs the genius, and its force impiurs. 
How oft, as now on thb devoted sheet, 
My^verse constrained to move with measur'd feety 
Reluctant and laborious limps along, 
And proves itself a wretched exile^s song. 
What is it tuner the most melodious lays ? 
*TiB emulation and the thirst of praise, 
A noble thirst, and not unknown to me, 
While smootUy wafted on a calmer sea. 
But can a wretch Hke Ovid pant for fame r 
No, rather let the world forget flay name. 
Is it because that world i^prov'd my strain, 
Tou prompt me to the same pursuit again ? 
No, let the Nine th' ungrateful truth excuse, 
.. charge my hopeless ruin on the Muse, 
And, like Perillus, meet my just desert, 
The victim of my own pernidous art. 
Fool that I was, to be 00 wam'd in vain, 
And shipwrecked once to tempt the deep agaia 
• 111 fares the bard in this unletter'd land, 
None to consult, and none to understand. • 
The purest verse has no admirers here, 
Tneir own rude language only suits their ear. 
Rude as it is, at length familiar grown, 
I learn it, and almost unlearn mv own:— 



96 A TALE, FOUNDED ON I* AC*. 

Yet to say trath, e^em bete iht lilttse ili«te^ 
Coniunneiit, and ntiempiB lier fbhxi^ «fHkii^ 
But finds tho strong desire is net the pcyw^r^ 
And what her taste condemhi, the H^taei den^W. 
A parti perh&ps, Ifte-tMs, etioiipbh ^ #6oifi^ 
And tbo' mnrorthj, finds * IHend at RoiA«i. 
But oh the cmel art, thai eetdd undo 
Its ▼0t*r7 thus, wooM th^t coola pfbikh «ol» . 



A TALEi 
FOUNDSD ON A FACT. 

WHICH UAPP£li£D I» JAJfUARY, 1700. 

Whers Hvnher ^vttit feos rich coiomeEetitl streMi> 

There dwelt a wretch who tereatii'd biit to Waipheua 

In snbterraneoni eaVes fafai iiie he led^ 

Black as the inme in which he wroa^t fyr focead. 

When on ft day enie#f iii^ ^tom the decf>, 

A sabbath-day, (such eabbatiks thousands kmp !) 

The wages of his wc^ly toil he bore 

To buy a cock— %hose Wood nng ht win hka Btore • 

As if the noblest 6f the feither'd Idhd 

Were but for binttle and fbr death de^gla'd ', 

As if the consecrated hours were meant 

For sport, to ihhids on crusty intent ; 

It chanc'd (suCh ohanees Providence d)ey) 

Ho met a feUoW-roib'rer on the way^ 

\^ose heart the same desires had dime liifiaBi'd ) 

But now the savage temper was recJaiiUVL 



J 



A TALE, FOUNI^D ON FACT. 97 

Persuasioa on bis lips had taken place ; 
For all plead well, wbo plead the -eause of graee. 
Hifl iron-heart ^th scripture he tssail'd, 
Woo'4 him to hear a sersioii) and prevailed 
His &ithfiil bow the mighty preacher drew, 
Swift, ap llie Mghtnkig-gUm^, the atrow. fiem 
He wept ; he trembled ; east his eyes around, 
To find a worse than he ; but none he found. 
He felt his sins, and wonder'd he should feel, 
Grac* Made the wound^ and gif»oe alcme coitld held. 

Now farewell oaths, and blasphemies, and UiM ! 
He quits the sinner's for the martyr's prize. 
That holy day wMeh wash'd with m«cny a tear, • 
Gilded witii hope, yet shaded too by fW. 
The next, his swartiiy b ri rtto en of the mine 
Leam'd, by his alter'd speech — ^the changfo diyine ! 
Laugh'd when they idtotdd hare wept, and swore thd 

day 
Was nigh, when he would aw^ar as :fiat as they. 
" No, (said the penitent,) such words shall share 
This breath no more ; devoted now to pray*r. 
O ! if thou see*8t (thine eye the future sees) 
Thai I shall yet agaiu blaspheme like these ; 
Now strike me to Khe ground on which I knsel. 
Ere yet this heart relapses into steel ; 
Now take me to that HesTi^n I <mce defied, 
Thy presence, thy embnuse 1"*— Hft i^oke «imI ^iai 4 

ToL. lit. 9 



(98) 

TRANSLATION 

or A 

SIMILE IN PARADISE LOST. 

IJime, 1780. 

** S» when^fr^m mtumtmn teps, tfce dusky elemds 
*» Jsemdingf i^** 

QoalM aerii montis do Tertiee nobes 

Cam ■orgruiift, et jam Borea tamida on. qoieraiii, 

Coeliim hilaxes abdit, ^«a oaUgiae, Taliaa : 

Tum si jueondo tandem sol pro^teat oxe, 

£t croceo montet et pascaa lumina tingat, 

Gaudent omniai ayes muleent concentibas a^rroa, 

Balatiujoe ^iviiun coUes Talleaqoe resultant. 



TRANSLATION 

OF 

DRTDEPTS EPIGRAM ON MILTON 

^ Three Poets, in three distoMt ages (om, ^ ** 
[Jvly, 1780.] 

Tbss tiia, sed longe distantU, soacnla vates 
Ostentant tribus e gentibns ezimios 

Grecia snblimem, cmn majestate diseitmn 
Roma tality felix Anglia utiiqne parem. 

Partiibos ex binis Natora exhausta, coaeta Mt^ 
Toitius at fierety eonsooiaio dooa. 



J 



(99) 
TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON 

on BIS KETVBN FROM RAMSOATX. 
[Oa. 1780.] 

That ocean yon have late 8arvej*d| 

Those rocks I too have seeiiy 
Bat I afflicted and dlsmay'd. 

Ton tranquil and serene. 

Von frmn the flood^oatrolluif steep ^ 

Saw stxe(ch*d before yonr fwwy 

With conscions Joy, the thceat'ning 6mf^ 
No longer such to yon. 

To me» Hm waves that oeasetoiv brolw 

Upon the dang'roos coast. 
Hoarsely and ominously spoke 

Of all my treasure lost. * 

» 
Tonr sea of troubles you have past. 

And found the peaceful shore ; 
I, tempest tosB'd, and wreck'd at hMly 

Come home to port no more. 



LOVE ABUSED. 

What is there in the vale of llfb 
Half so delightful as a wife, 
When Inendship, love, and peace eombiat 
To stamp the marriage bond divhie ? 



100 AN EPISTLE TO LADY AUSTEK. 
The stream of pure and geniune loTe 
Derives its current from above ; 
And earth a second Eden shows. 
Wherever the healing water flows ; 
But «b, if from the dykes and drains 
Of sensual nature's fey'rish yeins, 
Lust, like a lawless headstrong flood. 
Impregnated with ooze and mud, 
Descending fast on eyerj mde, 
Once mingles with the sacred tide, 
Farewell the s<uil-enliT*ning scene ! 
The banks that w(»e a smiling green. 
With rank defilement overspread, 
^Bewail their flow'ry beavties deaJd. 
The stream polluted, dark, and doll, 
Difiui'd into a Stygian po<d, 
Throogh life's last raelanchc^ yean 
Is fed with oyerflowing toars : 
Compbints supply the sepfayr's part. 
And sighs that heaye a breaking heart. 



A POETICAL EPISTLE TO JJkDY 
AUSTEN. 

Dec. 17, 1781. 

DsAR Arna— between friend and &iend| 
Prose answers feyery common end ; 
Serves, in a plain tind home^ vray, 
T* express th* occurrence of the day;- 
Our health, the weather, and the news ; 
What walks we take, what books we chooip. 
And all the floating thoughts we find 
Upon the surface of the mind. 



AN EPISTLE TO LADY AUSTEN. 101 

But when a poet takes the pen, 
Far mere alive than, other men, 
He leek a gentle tingling come 
Down to his finger and his thmnb, 
DeriY'd from nature's noblest part, 
The centre of a glowing heart : 
And this is what the world, who knows 
No flights above the pitch of prose, 
His mOTe sublime vagaries slighting. 
Denominates an itch for writing. 
No wonder I, who scribble rhjme 
To catch the triflers of the time, 
And tell them truths divine and clear, 
Which, couch'd in prose, they will not htfar ; 
Who labour hard to allure and draw 
• The loiterers I never saw, 

Should f»*l that itching, and that tingling 
With all my purpose intermingling, 
To your intrinsick merit true, 
When call'd t' address myself to you. 

Mysterious are his ways, whose m^er 
Brings forth that unexpected homr 
When minds, that never met before, 
Shall meet, unite, and part no more : 
It is the allotment of the skies, 
The hand of the Supremely Wise, 
That guides and governs our affections, 
And plans and orders our connexions : 
Directs us in our distant road, 
And marks the bounds of our abode. 
Thus we\were settled when you found us^ . 
Peasants and children all around us, 
Not dreaming of so dear a friend, 
D^ep in the abyss of Silver-End.* 

* An obscure part of OIney, adjoin&ig to the resiOfenoe oi 
Cowper, which faced the market-place 
9» 



m All HPISTLB ro LJtOT Ami«N 

Thus Martha, e'em ngtUnit her will. 
Ferch'd on tlie top of yoa^r h\Xi ;■ 
And yon, thppglt yoja miMt needs jpiete 
• The fairest acanee of sweet SancenWy* 
Are come irom distant Xioire) to ^ofispt 
A cottage on the baidss «f Case. 
This p«ge of Bro^rMei*ce quite nev* 
And now just op'oisig' to imr yjew, ' 
Employs our present tho^ghts asid f^Vt$ 
To guess, and spell, what it «oi^tidp(| ; 
But day by day, and ye*^ by yep^ 
Will make the dark enigma oleaFi ■' • 
And furnish us, perhap% at last, 
Like other scenes already p^ft, 
With proof, that we, aqd eur «fa¥iM| 
Are part of a Jehovah's cares : 
For €rod umfokts, by slow degjreep^ 
The purport of his deep decreeai 
Sheds every hour a cleaver hj^ 
In aid of ov^ defective sight; - 
And spreads at length before the soul 
A beautiful and perfeic^ vhok, 
Which bunji man'a l^velltbr^ ^a^ii. 
Toils to antic^fLt^ in v«vv 

Say, Anna, had joi^«€^T^k^TO, - ., 
The beauties Ojf 4 rose txijl blowfti 
Could you, thoV^u^pwQUf! yojuur .ej% 
By looki^ oju the hu^* de«»y> 
Or guess, with a prop^etick )^yf^h. 
The future splendour (^ the ^owctr^ 
Just so, th' Omnipotent who turns 
The system of a world*s conoemSi 
From mere minutisB can educe 
Events of most important use ; 
And bid a dawning sky display 
The blaze of a meridian day. 

'* Lady Austen's residence in France 



J 



AH SriSTLE TO LADT AU8T£N. 103 
Th0 wodu of man tend, on* axkd all, 
As needs they must, from great to nnall , 
And VAoky abeorlM. at length . 
The monuments of human strength. 
But who oaa tell how vaet the plan 
Which this day's incident began ! 
Too small) perhaps, the slight oeoasioni 
For our dim-sighted ol^ervatio|^ j 
It pass'd unnotic'd, as the bird 
That cleave^ the yielding air uiiheard. 
And yet may prove, when understood. 
An harbinger of endless good. 

Not that I d^em, or mean to call 
Friendship a blessing cheap or small . 
But merely to remark, that ours. 
Like some of nature's sweetest flowercl| 
Rose from a seed of tiny size. 
That seem'd to promise no such prize j 
A transient visit intervening. 
And made almost without a meaning, 
(Hardly the eflfect of inclination, 
Much less of pleasing expectation,) 
Produc'd a friendship, then begun,' 
That has cemented us in one ; 
And plac'd it in" our pow'r to pr6v0, 
By long fidelity and love, ' ' • 

That Solomon has wisely spok<6n : 
" A threefold cord is not soon hrokeiL*^ 



^^" j .. j»C^-'"'^Ug XjlI^- "-I- ^^^-^ 




uHivi; 






<104) 

FROM A LETTER TO THE REV. MR. NEWTON 

Late Rector of at. Maty Woolnoik 

PatedMay2d,1782.] 

Bays the pipe to tho snuff-boX| I can't understand 
What the ladies and gentlemen see m your faoB 

That you are in fashion all over the land, 
And I am so much fallen into disgrace. 

Do but see what a pretty contemplative air 

I give to the company — pray clo but npte 'em-^ 
Ton woold think that the wise men of Greece were iD 
there, 
Oti at least, would suppose them the wise men of 
Gotham. 

My breath is as sweet as the breath of blown roses, 
While you are a nuisance where'er you appear ; 

There is nothing but sniv'ling and blowing of noses, 
Sueh a noise as turns any man's ston^u^h to bear. 

Then lifting his lid in a delicate way, 

^And op'ning his mouth with a smile quite engaging 
The box in reply was heard plainly to say,. 
What a silly dispute is this we are waging ! 

If you have a little of merit to claim, 

fou may thank the sweet-smelling Virginian weed 
And I, if I seem to deserve any blame, 

The before-mentioned drug in apology plead. 

Thus neither the praise nor the blame is our own^ 

No room for a sneer, much less a cachinnus, 
We are vehicles, not of tobacco alone, 
, But of any thing else they may choose to put in us 



J 



- £106) 
THE COLUBRUP 

Closm by the thfealioUL of x dooz ivul'd fatA, 

Three kitt4MHi sat : each kitten looked aghafir 

I passing swift^ and iuattenture bj^ 

At the three kittens cast a careless eje ; 

Not mach concerned to know what they did there ; 

Not deeming kittens worth a poet's care. 

But presently a4oad and furious hiss 

Caus'd me to stop, and to excUdm '* what*s this ?" 

When lo ! upon the threshold met n^ view, 

With head erect, and eyes of fiery hue, 

A vipAr, long as Count de Grasse's queue. 

Forth from his head his forked tongue he throws. 

Darting it full against a kitten's nose ; 

Who, hayrag neyer seen, in field <Hr house, 

The Uke, sat still and stlent as a mouse : 

Only projecting, with attention due, 

Her whisker'd face, she ask'd him, " who are yov 

On to the hall went I, with pace not slow, 

Bot swift as lightning, for a long Dutch hoe i 

With which, well arm'd 1 hastened to the spot. 

To find the viper, but I found him not. 

And turning up the leaves and shrubs around. 

Found only, that he was not to be found. 

Bat still the Idttens sitting as before. 

Sat watching close the bottom of the door 

« I hope," said I, « the villain 1 would kill, 

Has slipped between the door, and the door's Sill j 

And if I mako despatch, and follow hard, 

No doubt but I shall find him in the yiutd :** 

For long ere now it should have been rohear8*4« 

Twas in the garden that I found him first. 



106 ON ItllEfNDSHIP. 

Ev*n thoro 1 foond him, thero the fVill-growii oat 

Hia head, with Telyet paw, did gently pat ; 

Aa curious as the kittens erst had been 

To leam what this phenomenon might mean. 

Fill'd with heroick ardour at the sight, 

And fearing every moment he would MtOi 

And rob our household of our only cat, 

That was of age to combat with a rat ; 

With out8tf«tefa*d hoe Tslew him at the door, 

And taught him neter to come there ho more 



ON FRIENDSHIP. 

Amicitia fiisi Inter bonos esse non potest. . . . Cicero 

[1782.] 

What virtue can we name, or grace. 
But men unqualified and base 

Will boost it their possession ^ 
Profusion apes the noble port 
* Of liberality of heart, 

And dulness of discretloio. 

But as the gem of richest cost " 
Is ever counterfeited most, 

So, always, imitation 
Employs the utmost skill she can 
To counterfeit the faithful man, 

The friend of long duration. 

Some wSi pronounce me too severe— 

But long experience speaks me clear ; 

Therefore that censure- scomin;|^| 



ON FRIBNDSHIP. m 

1 wiU proeeed to mark the «belv#ai 
On wUch so muiy dash tUem|«lve«, 
And give the sirople yraning. 

Tenth, nnadmoniih'd by a guide, 
Will trust to teoj &ir outside : 

An errour soon corrected ; 
For whO| but learns, wit]* riper years^ 
That man, when smoothest he appeaniy 

Is most to be suq>ected I , 

But here agiin a danger lies 
Lest, thus deluded byonjr eyes, 

And taking trash for treasure, 
We should, when undeceiy'd, eonolado 
Friendship, inutginary good, 

A mere Utopian pleasure. . 

An acquisition, rather rare, 
Is yet no subject of despair ; 

Nsr should it seem distressful, 
Neither on forbidden ground, 
Or, where it was not to be found. 

We sought it unsuccessful. 

Kb fHendship will abide the test 
That stands on sordid interest 

And mean self-lovo 6r«n>««u 
Nor such, as may awhile subsist 
Twizt sensuaHst and sensualist, 

For yicious ends connected. 

Who hopes a friend, should have a hearty • 
Himself, well fumish'd for the part, 

And ready on occasion 
To show the virtue that he seeks ; 
Tfur 'tis lUi union that bespeaks 

A just reciprocation. 



igS fEIfiKDSHlP. 

A fretful iMttftt wUl diTidB 
The cloipe«t faool that may be tied, 
By cewteleM «barp corroflion - 
A temper passionate and fierce 
May suddenly your joys dispwiw 
At one immeiis* eicplosioik^ 

In Tain the ta&Ati?« uaite 
With hepe of peirmanent deHgfal^ 

The secret jcMt ^mmitted : 
They drop through mere desire to prate^ 
Forgetting iU iniportafit ii^%ht; 

And by thenuidves outwitted^ 

How bright Ke'er the prospect seeUM, 
All thoughts of friendship are but dreione 

If envy chance to c^eep in j . 
An envious man, if you succeed, 
May prove a dang'rous foe indeed^ 

But not a friend wotth keeping. 

As envy pines at good posdMs'd) 
80 jealousy looks ^rth distressed 

On good that seems approaehha^^. , 
And, if success his stops attend, 
Discerns a rival m » ftifitidi • 

And hates lum Ibr etteroaohuvi^ . 

Hence authors of iUurtitbuB mwof , 
(Unless belied by commwafwnei) 

Are sadly prono to qunnrel i ... * 
To deem the wit a friend displays 
So much of loss to theur 0W9 Vt^^^t . 

And pluck eaqh other's kuirel. 

A man renowned for repartee. 
Will seldom scruple to make free 
With friendship's finest feeling, . 



-=J 



FRTENDSHIF. lf» 

Will thrust a dagger at your broui 
And tell you, 'twa» a special j«8t, 
By way. of balm for healing* 

Bemraie of tattlers ; keep your.ew; 
Close stopped against the tales they h«a« ; 

Fruits of their own invention ; 
T^ separation of cluef friends 
Is what their kindness most intends^ 

Their sport is ymir dissensiea. 

FrieiidAJp thai fnsttotfity lUhntts 

A joeo-serious play of wits « 

In brilliant altercatioui 
Is nmon such< as indicates, 
Like hand-in-hand insaranoe-plate% 

Danger of conflagration. * 

Some fickle creatures Boast t soid 
Tme as ike needle to the pole ; 

Yet riiifting, like the weather* 
The n6edle*s constancy ibiego 
F«r any novelty, and show 

Its Variations rather 

Insensibility makes some 
Unseasonably deaf and &tsB^ 

When most you need their pity ; 
lis waiting tSn the tears shafi flitt 
From Gog and Mago^ iA Ckdldhall^ 

Those playthings of ^ eity. 

The great and small but Mdrely meet 
bn terms of amity complete : 

Th* attempt would scarce be madder, 
Should any, from the bottom, hopia 
At one huge stride to reach the top 

Of an erected ladder. 
Vol. HL 10 



no FRI£NI>SH2r. 

Courder and patriot cannot mix 
Their het'rogeneous politicka 
• Without an effervescence, 
Bach at of aalta with lemon juice 
But whi<^ if rarely known t' indiitc^ 
Like that, a coalescence. 

Reli^on should extmguish strife, 
And ma^e a calm of hmnan life • 

But even those who differ 
Only on topicks left at large. 
How fiercely will they meet a«f chaqj*. 

No combatants are jtiffer. 

To prove, alas ! my main intent, 
Needs no great cost of argument. 

No cutting and contjiving ; 
Seeking a real friend, we seem 
T* adopt tht chyou«t*« golden dream 

With stiU less hope of thriving. 

Th^n Judge, or ere you choose your man. 
As circumspectly as you can, ., 

And, having made election, . 

See that no disrespect of yours. 
Such as a friend but ill endmea, 

Enfeeble his a^^ctjon. 

It is not timb^ tea*, and stone, 
An architect requires alone, 

To finish a great, building ; 
The palace were but half complete. 
Could he by any chatnce fitfget . . , 

The carving and th^ gilding,. 

As similarity of mind, 
Or something not to be defined, 
First rivets our attention ; 



FRIENDSHIP. Ill 

So, manners decent and polite, 
, The same we practised at first sight," 
Must save it from declcnsioa 

The man who hails you Tom — or Jack, 
And proves hy thumping on your back 

His songe of your great merit, 
Jb such a friend, Uiat one had need 
Be very much his friend indeed, 

To pardon, or to bear it. 

Some friends make this their prudent plaa-» 
** Say little, and hear all you can ?" 

Safe policy, but hatefrd. 
So barren sands imbibe the showV, 
But rendec neither fruit nor flow'f 

Unpleasant and ungrateful, 

They whisper trivial things, and mall ; 
But, to communicate at all 

Thingikserious, deem improper; 
Their feculence and froth they show. 
But keep their best contents below, 

Just like a simm'ring copper. 

These samples (for alas ! at last 
These are but samples, and a taste 

Of evils yet unmentioned) 
May prove the task, a task indeed, 
In which 'tis much, if we succeedf 

However wcll-interition'd. 

Fanme the theme, and yon shall find 
51 disciplin'd and furnish'd mind 

To be at least expedient. 
And after summing all the rest, 
Religion ruling in the breast 

A principal inffrcdiont. 



112 THE LOSS OF THE KOTAL OEORCUB. 

True friendship has, in short, a grace 
More th^ terrestrial in its face, 

That proves it heaVn^eseended: < 

Man*8 love of woman n0t«> pure, 
Nor, when sincerest, so secure 

To last till life is ended 



ONTHELOSSOFTHEROYALGEORQE. 

{To the March in Scipto,} 

Written whkv thk itsws arrived 
\;S€ptemher, 1782.] 

Toifi. ibr the brave ! 

The brave that are no tnoxei , 
All ««iik benedth the wave, ' 

TmA h^ their native shore ! 

» 
Eight hundred «f the brave, 

Whose courage well was triedy 
Had made the vessel heel. 

And laKl her on her side. 

A land breeze shooik the shroudsi 

And she was overset ; 
Down weiit the Royal George, 

With aU her crew complete. 

Ton for the brave ! ^ 

Brave Kempenfelt is gone ; 

His last sea-fight is fought ; • 

His work of glorj done 



THE LOSS OF TH£ ROTAL CffiORGE. 113 

mt wu not in th« battle ; 

No tempMt gave the shodL ; 
She-npTBiil^ no &tal leak ; 

Sbe ran upon no rock. 

Hb fword was in his sheath ; 

His 6ngers lieM the pen. 
When Kempenfelt went down. 

With twice four hundred men. 

Wei^ the Tassel up. 

Once dreaded by our foes! 
And inlhgle with our enp. 

The tear that England owes. 

Her timbers yet are sound, 

And die may float again, 
FnU-charg'd with ^ghuid'^ thunder. 

And plough the distant main. 

Bnt Kempesfblt is gone. 

His viotories ate o'er ; 
And he and his ei|i^ huddred, 

Shall plough the wave no more. 

10» 



BEfe 



<m) 



IK 8UBMERBIONEM NAVIGII, CUT GEORiSIUS 
REGALIS NOMEN, IHDrrUM. 

Flahoimus fortes. Periere fortes, 
. Fatriimi propter peiier^ Httns 
His qnater centum ; sitbxto mihtS^ 
£qfiore mem* 

Naiis, umitens lateri, jacebat, 
Ifalus ad sommas titepidabat 
Com levisy fUnes qtiatiens, ad 
Pepulit annu 

Flangimus fortes. Nlinis, hen, cadacam 
Fortibus yitam voluere parcn^ 
Neo sinunt ultra tibi nos reoenteo 
Neetere laoras. 

Magne, qui nomen, licet incanonmiy 
Traditum ez multis atavis tulisti ! 
At tuos olim xnemorabit sTum 
Omne triumphos. 

Non hyems illos foribunda menaty 
Nom marl in clanso scopuU latentei^ 
Fissa non rimis abies, nee atroz . 
Abstulit ensis. 

Nayitn sed turn niminm jocosi 
VocfB fallebant hilari laborem, ^ 
£t quiescebat calamoque deztram iiBf 
pleverat heros. 

Voa, quibus cordi est grave opus piumquAf 
Humidom ex alto spolium levate, 
Ct putrescentes sub aquis amicos 
Reddlte amicis ! 



I1& ON/PfiACB. 

Hi quidem (sic dis placuit) fuere : 
Sed rails, nondam putris, ire potut 
Rorfus in beUum, Biitonomque nomen 
Tollere ad i 



SONG 

OK tEAXiJi. 
WARTss IV TBS tunon or 1783» at turn usqusir 

OF LADT AUBTSNi WBO OATB TOm SBHVUUUni 

A>— ^* My fond shepheris of UUe,"* 4^. 

1^0 longer I foUow a flonnd ; 
No longer a dream I pvrtne : 

C happiness ! not to be fbondy 
Unattiunable treasiue, adieu 1 

I Jiaye sought thee in splendour und die^l^ 
In the regions of pleasure joid iaat»; ^ 

I have sought thee, and seem'd to possess^ 
Bat have prov'd Ihee jl lasioBiftt hiflt. 

An humble ambition and hope 
The voice of true wisdun inspiftas s 

Tis sofficiont, if Peass he the Moopftf 
And the summit of aU < 



Peace may be the lot of the- mind 
That seeks in it meekness and love; 

Bat rapture and bliss are confin'd 
To the gbrified spirits above. 



(IIC) i 

SONG .• 

j«r-. « The Lass cf PaUU's JtOJ 

When all within is peace, 

How nature seems to s^o ' 
Delights that never cease. 

The live-long day beguile. 
From mom to dewy eve, 

• l^th open hand she showen 
Fresh blessings to deceive, 

And sooth the silent hoars. 

It is content of heart 

Gives nature power to pleats | 
The mind that feels no smart. 

Enlivens all it sees ; 
Csn make a winthry akj 

Seem bright as smiling Maf • 
And evening's closing eyo 

As peep of earfy <lay. 

The vast majestick jrlobs, 

So beauteously array'd 
In nature's various robe, 

With wondrous. duUdisplay'd, 
Is to a mourner's heart 

A dreary wild at best ; 
It flutters to depart, 

And longs to bo at rest. 

* Also written at the request of Lady Austen. 



(117) 

•BLZCTSD Xmm J^ PCCAfilOITAI, POJUfj JUf3ja^ft«» 

▼AiJEWcrroN. 



yK^im^HBtr, 178a.] 

Ou Frieciilililii ! Cocdisl of tbe Kwaaa bi>eait 
So little ftU, 80 lenrentljr prefeM^ ! 
Thy blossoms .flaok our «iiimu||^ootkif j^osm; 
The proMMB of deUoiMw ftnit af^eus : 
We hug the hepes of oooskancsr <Mid tniA, 
8ach is theibily of o«r 4ree»iiAg yem^ ; 
But soon, aksl 4eUot ibe nwh misiake 
That sanguine inoxfwri^ee lores to aMdce , 
And yiew with teera th' oacpeoled harreet lost, 
Decay *d by time, or witber^^^ by « frost. 
Whoevor midoEtakes a IHend's great part 
Should be reiiewM in nature, pare in heart, 
Prepared for martyrdom, and strong to prove 
A thousand ways the force of genuine love. 
He may be call'd to give up health and gain, 
T* exchange content for trouble, ease for pain, 
To echo sigh for sigh, and groan for groan. 
And wet his cheeks with sorrows not his own. 
The heart of man, for such a task too frail, 
When most relied on, is most sure to fail ; 
And, summoned to partake its fellow's wo, 
Starts from its office, like a broken bow. 

Vot'ries of business, and of pleasure, proTe 
Faithless alike in friendship and in love. 



RQ006 



L 



U8 FROM THE POEM OF VALKDIGTIOH 
Retif'd from all the circles of the gay, 
And aH the crowds, (hat bustle life away, 
To scenes, where competition, envy, strife, 
Beget no thonder-clonds to trouble life. 
Let me, the charge of some good angel, find 
One, who has known, and has escaped mankind ; 
Polite, yet Tirtnoos, who has brought away 
The manners, not the morab, of the day : 
With him, perhaps with Acr, (for men have known 
No firmer friendships than the fur hfi?e showBj) 
Let me enjoy, in some unthought-cif spot. 
All former friends forgiven, and forgot, 
Down to the close of life's fiuit fiuiing MceoOf 
Union of hearts, without a flaw between. 
Tis grace, *tis boottty, and it caUs fbr pvaiMy 
If God give health, that sunshine of our days * 
And if he add, a blessing.shared by fiiw,. 
Content of heart, more praises stili jire.diiOf— 
Bat if he grant a friend, that boon posnosn'd . 
Indeed is treasure, and crowns all the rest; 
And giving one, whose heart is in the skiMi 
Bom firom above, and made ^vinely wise. 
He gives, what bankrupt nature never can. 
Whose noblest coin is light and brittle man, 
Gold, purer far than Ophir ever knew, 
A soul, an Image of himself^ an^ there/era traa ' 






Ji 



TH£ SHORTNESS OF HUMAN UFB. 1]» 

IN BREVITATEM VITiE SPATTI H6MimBUS 
CONCESSI. 

BT DR. JORTIV. 

Hsi mihi ! Lege nta M oeddil aUpn Yensgit, 
Lunaque mutatiD. repute! £ipeixU&lbff«tiB, 
Astraque, parpnrei telb extineta diei| 
Runnui Boete Tigent HnmUee telluris aliinmi 
Gramiiiis herba verensy et florum pieta propago, 
Qiios cmdelifl hyema lethali tabe peredit, * 
Cum Zepll^ Yox Uaada -rocat, reditttue Mreni 
Temperies anni, fcecnndo, e cespite snrgnnt. 
Nos domini rerum, noa, magna et pulebia nunati, 
Cum breve ver vitao robustaqoe trannit mtas, 
Defioimus ; nee nos ordo revolubilia anraa ^ 
Reddit in etheiiea% tumuli neque cknstra reselrit . 



OH THE 

SHORTNESS OP HUMAN UFE, 

TRAirSLATION OF TBI FOBSOOnrO. 

[Jatmary, 1784.] 

Suvs tlmt tet, and moons that wane. 
Rifle, and are restored again, 
Stars that orient day subdues, 
Night at her return renews. 
Herbs and flowers, the beauteous bifth 
Of the genial womb of earth, 
Suffer but a transient death 
From the winter^ cruel breath 



ttO TO M18S C^; ON ȣft BIRTH-DAT 
Zophyr ipeaks ; Berenor aktea 
Warn the glebe, «ad they arise. 
We, alaa ! £arUMi hawghty kings, 
We, that promise migfatj things, 
Loaing soon life's happy prime, 
Droop, and ftde, in little time. 
Spring lelafms, bM not ocv Uwia« 
Still 'tit wiBtot ilk tiiftteMib^ 



EPITAPH ON JOHNSOSr. 

[JannMryf 1785.] 

HsRS Johnson lilss — ft sage by all allow'd, 

Whem te hftre bred, may well mate England pnrad 

Whose prose was eloquence, by wisdom taught ; 

The graceful vehicle of virtuous thought*. 

Whose verse may claim — grave, masculine, and strong, 

Superiour praisQ to the mere poet's song ; 

Who many a noble gift from Heav'n possess'd, 

And faith at last, alone worth all the rest. 

O man, immortal by a. double prize^ 

By fiune on earth— by gloiy in the skfes t 



TO MISS 



, OS BER BmTHJ)AT 



[17865 

How many betww e u feast and wwit, 
Disgrace their parent earth. 

Whose deeds constrain us to detest 
The day that give them birth < . 



j^BATlTUDE. idt 

Not w wbeo Stella** natii mora 

RoTolykg jnoBtiiA restoray 
We ean rejoice that elie was bon. 

And wiah her borAOBce more' 



* • GRATITUDE. 

ADDRESSED TO LAP? HESKSTH. 

[I786J 

Thu eap, that so stately appears, 

VTith ribaad-boond tassel on h^h. 
Which seems hj the crest that it rears 

Ambitions of brmhing the sky x 
This cap to'm^ cousin I owe^ 

She gare ft, and gave me besi^^y 
Wreathed into an elegant bow, 

The ribaQd with which it is ticdf 

This wheet-ieoted etndyliig efaair^ 

Contrir'd botik ibt tcJl- and repose,^ 
Wide-elboir'd aa4 wadded wi^ hair; ' 

In ^chich I btttb sevibMe and^dto, 
Bright-studded to dazzle the eyes^ ' 

And rival in lustre of that 
In which, or astronomy lie§, 

Fur Cassiopeia sat : 

These eai^ets, so soft te tlie fbot, ' t * 

Caledonia's traffiok and pride, 
Oh, spare them, yc knights of the boot 

Escaped from a cross-country ride ! 
This table and mirror within, 

Secure from collision and dust, 
At which I od shave cheek and chin 

And periwig nicely adjust * 
Vol. hi. 11 



=:%p»^ 



122 GRATITUDE. 

This moveable structure of shelves, 

For its beauty admired^ aiid its use, 
And charged with octavos and twolves, 

The gayest J liad to produce . 
Where, flaming in scarlet and gold, 

My poems enchanted 1 view, 
And hope, in due time to behold 

JITy lUad and OdjFSsejr tool ^ 

This china, that decks the alcove, 

Whioh here people call a buffet. 
But what the gods call it above. 

Has ne'er been reveal'd to us yet ; 
These curtains, that keep the room warm 

Or cool, as the season demands, 
These stoves thst fi>r pattern and form. 

Seem the labour of Muk^iber's hands : 

An these are not half that I owe ^ 

To one, from her earliest youth 
To me ever ready to show 

Benignity, friendship, and truth *, 
For time^ the disstroy^ ded»r'd 

And foo of pur perishing ktad, 
If even her faee be has spai:*d» 

Mnoh lesr CRuld he alter %t€ mind.« 

Thus eompassM about with the goods • 

And chattels of leisure and ease, ■ ■ 
I indulge my poetical moods, 

In many such fancies as these ; 
And fancies I fear they wHlseom-^ 

Poets*^goods are not often so fine ; 
The poets will swear tiiat I dreaiti, 

When I sing of the splendour df mine 



J 



f 123 ) 



THE FLATTING-MILL. 



▲N nXVSTRATIOH. 

WuBN a b^ of pure silyer, or ingot of gold^ 
^8 sent to be flatted or wrought into length, 
It is pasted between cylinders oflen, and rolPd 
In an engine of utmost mechanical strength. 

Thos tortar*d and squeezed, at last it appears 
Like a loose heap of riband, a glittering show, 
Like musick it tinkles and rings in your ears, 
And, warm*d by the pressure, is aQ in a glow. 

This process achiered, it is doomed to sustain 
The thump-afler-tburap-of a gold'beater*s mallet, 
And at last is of service in sickness or pain 
To cover a piU for a delicate palate. 

Ahui for the poet t who dares undertake 

To UE^ reformation of national iU— 

His head>uid his heart are both likdy to aehe 

With the double employment of mallet and milL 

If he wish to instruct, he must learn to delight, 
Smooth, ductile, and even, his fancy must flow, 
Must tinkle and glitter like geld to the mght, 
And catch in its progress a sensible glow. 

After all, he must beat it as thin and as fine 
As the leai that unfolds what an invalid swalloii{^ 
For truth is unwelcome, however divine, « 

And unless you adorn it, a nausea follows. 



LINES 

COMPOSED FOR ▲ MEMORIAL OP 

ASHLEY COWPER, ESa 

IXMZDIATSLT AFTER HIS DEATH* 

BY ms NEPHEW, WILLUM bT WESTON 

iJune, ItSS.] 

Farewell ! endued with all that could enga^ 
All hearts to love thee, both, in youth and age ! 
In prime of life, for sprightlineas enroU'd 
Among the gay, yet virtuous as the old ; 
In lifo*s last stage O blessings rarely found — 
Pleasant as youth with all its blossoms crownVl ; 
Through every period of this changeful state, 
Unehang*d thyself— wise, good, %^ectionate ' 

Marble may flatter ; and lest this should seem 
0*orcharg*d with ptai^es dH so dear a theme, 
Although thy worth be mojre than half supprett,^^ 
Love #ibitt be satisfied) and veil the rest 



QUEEN'S VISIT TO LONDON, 

THE NIGHT OF THE 17th MARCH, 1789. 

Whbh, long sequestcr'd from his throne, 

George took his seat again, 
By right of worth, not blood alone, 

Entitled here to reign. 



^sr:^ 



THE QUEEITS VISIT TO hOJUDO^ V2S 

Then Loyalty, with all his lainpa 

New trimm'd, a gallant diow ! 
Chasing the darkness, and the damps, 

Set London in ajg^low. 

Twas hard to tell, of streets or sqnatei, 

Which fonn'd the chief display. 
These most resembling einster'd stars; 

These thsk loeg milky way. 

Bright shone the rooifii, the domes, the wpa^ 

And rockets flew, self-driven. 
To hang their momentary fires 

Amid the ranlt of Hear'n. 

So, fire with water to compare. 

The ocean serves, on high 
Up-spoated by a whale in air, 

T' express unwieldy joy. 

Had an the pageants of the world 

In one procession join'd, 
And all the banners been nnfbrrd 

That heralds e'e/ design'di 

For no such sight had Ehgland's Qaeeii ' 

Forsaken her retreat, 
Where, George recovered, made a scene 

Sweet always, doubly sweet. 

Yet glad she came that night to prore^ 

A witness undesori'd, 
How much the object of her love 

Was lov'd by all beside.. 

Darkness the skies had mantled o'er^ 

In aid of her desig n 
Darkness, O Queen ! ne*er caU*d befoiift 

To veil a deed of thine 1 



On borrow'd ^i^ieek n,wKy ^be flie^> 
ReBolt*d to be iskkBown, 

And gisftify no ottikqn «yeB 
That night, ejocepi^hai i 



ArriT^y a nigiit lik» nooiiiiir Msi; 

And hMM th» B^licm kmB ; 
Afl all by iaitmoty like the beei^ 

Had known their wofT'nlgm daoHik 

Pleas4 dte bdield alefV pofortri^ 

On many a splendid wbU, 
' Emblema of health, and bemv*idy ui^ 
And George the theme of A 

Unlike the sBnigmatiok Hne^ 

80 difficult to epel^y 
'Which shock Beldiazzar at hie ^iney 

The night his city leil. 

Soon, wat'ry grew her ^roe aad diiii^ 

Bot with a joyfiil tear> 
None else, etoept a pray'r for him,: 

George ever dren^ from her. 

It was a ecene in t(v*ry part 
Like those in &ble feign'd^ 

And aeem'd by scmie magician^ art 
Created and scutain'd. 

Bat other Buq^ek there, she knew, 

Had been exerted none. 
To ruse such wonders in her view, 

Save loTe of Geor|re aloiie. 

That cordial thought hst^ispMt ohd^^d. 
And through the emohYoiis thrdig 

Not else unworthy to bd fbar'd, 
Convey'd her calm along. 



XPS €OCK^OHTER'S GASHJOXB. 

80, ancient poets my serene 

The feapinaid rides the whtoi^ 

And fearless of the hiUowy seems 
Her peac^il bosom kvet. 

With more than astronomiek ey«s 
She view'd the sparkling show ; 

One Georgian star adonis the sidesy 
She ajriads found below 

Tet let the glmnes of a nigh 
Like that once seen, suffice, 

Heay'n grant us no such fiiture eighty 
Such previous wo the price ! 



m 



THX 



COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAHB* 

[Jlffl^lTW.l 

Muss — ^Hide his name of whom I dag 
Lest his surviving house thou briogy 

For his sake, into scorn ; 
Nor speak tiw School firom which he di«# 
The much or little that he kneWy 

Nor ^aoe where hfr was bom. 



That such a man onoe was, may 1 
Worthy of record (if the theme 

Perchance may credit win) 
For proof to man, what man may pror»y 
If grace depart, and demons mova 

The source of guilt within. 



128 TH? COCK-FIGHTERS GARLAND. 

ThU man (for since the howling wild 
Diiclaimfl him, Man he mast be styl'd) 

Wanted no good below, 
Gentle he was, if gentle birth 
Could make him inch, and he had worth, 

If wealth can worth bestow. 



In aocial talk and ready jest' 
He shone soperionr at the feast, 

And qualities of mind 
Ulastrioas in tho eyes of those 
Whose gay society he chose, 

rossess'd of every kind. 

Methinhs I see him powder*d red, 
With bushy locks his well-dress*d head 

Wing'd broad on either side. 
The mossy rose bud not so sweet 
His steed superb, his carriage neat 

As lux*ry could provide. 

Can such be cruel !— ^acK ean be 
Cruel as hell, and so is he ! 

A tyrant, entedala'd , ' 
With barb*rous sffor to, whose fell doliglik 
Was to encourage mortal iSgfat 

Twist Urdaio bat^ tram'A. 

One feaih^'d plUiGUiipioii he poasesa'd. 
His darling far t)«yond tke rest, 

Which jMi«rJuiiaw.diagrao#v . 
Nor e*er had fought, but ha made flow 
The life-blood of his fiercesi foe, 

Tho Cfl^ai? of his race., 

It chanced, at last, when, f^l & digr, 
He push'd him to tho dcsp'rato fray • 
His courage droop '4/ be itodt 



J, 



THE COCK-FIGHTER'S GARLAND 1» 
The Blaster Btorm'di the prise wai loity 
Andy instant frantick at the cost. 
He doom'd his fa?'rite dead. 

Be Mii*d him fiut, and from the pit 
Flew 16 his kiteheii, snatoh'd the spit, 

And, brin^ me cord, he cried — 
The oord was bronght, and at his wordy 
To that dire implement the bird, 

Alive and straggling, tied. 

The horrid sequel asks a; veii. 
And an the terronrs of the taltf 

That can^ he, shall he, Madk^' 
Led by the soiTrer'a flcreama aright, 
His shock*d companions tiew the iHgik^ 

And him with ftirj drunk. 

An, sappliant beg a milder fitte 
For the eld warxiour at the grate : 

He, deaf to pity's eaU, 
Whirl'd round him rapid as a wheel 
His culinary club of steel. 

Death menacing on aR 

Out yengeaaee hung not fkr remote. 

For while he stretched Ids ekmVous thro«l» 

And heav'n and earth defied. 
Big with a curse too cloiely pknot^ 
That strugji^ vainly for a vent, 

He totter'd, reePd, and died. 

Tisflot Ibr lis, wMi ntoh sirsll«ef 
To point the J u dg m en t s of the ttdiem^ 

B«t j«^wenti i^ain aoi ttriif 
That, sent for Miid[*s instrUotiol^Mil^ 
A Wtittn^ liM Off iheir iHng!^ 

Tis hard td read antisi; 



130 TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. 



BENEFIT RECEIVED BY HIS MAJESTY 
FROM SEA-BATHING, 

IN THE YEAB 1789. 

O SoT*REiGN of an isle renown'ci 

For undisputed sway 
Wherever o'er yon gulf profound / 

Her navies wing theii way. 

With jttster claim she builds at length 

Her empire on the sea, 
And weii may boast tho waves* her strength 

Which strengtli restored to Thee. 



TRANSLATIONS FROM HORACE. 



HOR.LIB. I. ODE IX. 

Vides^ ta aUa stet vivt ctmdidwm 
Soracte. 

8ES*iT thou yon mountain laden with deep snow, 
The groves benefth their fleeey burthen bow. 
The stream* comgeaVd foi;get to flow. 
Come, thaw the cold, and lay a ehmful pile 

Of fuel on the hearth ; 

Broach the best cask, and make old 

With seasonable mirth. 



TRANBL^WnONS FROM HORACE, m 
Tliii be our pait-^et HeaT*n dispose the rest 

If Jove command, the winds shall sleep, 
That now wtLge war upon the fbamjr deep, 

And £fentle gales spring fr<mi die hatmjr "Wmt, 
Weik let ns shift to^mortoW as we may^ 

When toHDorrow's past away^ 

We at least shall have to say, • - 

We have liv'd another day ; 
Tour auburn locks will soon be sihrer'd o'er, 
Old age is at our heels, and youth returns no moM. 



HOR. LIB. I. 0BE 9a 

Persieos odi, puer^ appuratm. 

Boy, I hate their empty shows, 

Persian garlands I detest. 
Bring not me the late-blown rose. 

Lingering after all the rest : 

Plainer myrtle pleases me. 

Thus out-stretch*d beneath my vine 
Myrtle more hocominU thee. 

Waiting yd\h thy master swin^ 



1 
.1 






HOR. B. I. ODE 38. 

BoT ! I MMt an P«rfM]i fopperies 
FUlet^xmnd garlands sre to me ^tisgosUng, 
Task not tlgpiitf littll wff ifjm^, I; rtWffo thee, 
Wbeve latest roses linger^ 

Bring me alone (for thon wih find that readlljj 
Hwn myrtle. Myrtle neither viH dispiM^gp 
Thee oeeopied to serve me, or me drinkiinj^ 
" i my yin©'* 99?1 shelter. 



HOR. LIB. H. OWE 1& 

(Xlmik Divos rogot in potentt. 

Eais is the weary merchanVs pray'r, 
Who ploughs hy night the Agean fiood« 

When neither moon nor stars appear, 
Or laintly glimmer through the cloud. 

For ease the Mede with quiver graced, 
For esse the Thracian hero sighs. 

Delightful ease all pant to taste, 
A hleseing which no treasure buys 



==J 



TftANBLATlONd FROM HOftlCSB. 
F«riieftber ir<M eaa InH lo iMt, 
Hot iifl A CoBwU'i guatdlMttl ofl; 

A fev deftn (maoed of old pi»t|t ; 
No fear intmdefl on hi* lepope, 
2^ lordid wishes to be great. 

Poor fhort-lly'd things, what plans we lay * 
Ah, why foraake oar Bative home ! 

To distant climates speed away : 
For self sticks close where'er we roam. 

Care follows hard ; and soon o'ertakes 

The well rigg'd ship, the warlike steed. 
Her destined quarry ne'er forsakes, 

Not the wind flies with half her speed. 

i 

From an^ous fears, of future ill 

Goard well the eheerf\xl, happy Now ; " 
Gild even your sorrows with a smile. 

No blessing is unmix'd below. 

Thy neighing steeds and lowing hordfi, 

Thy numerous flocks around thee gra«a^ 
And the best purple Tyre affords 
^ Thy robe magnificent displays 

On me indulgent Heay'n bestowed 
A rural mansion, neat and small , 
This Lyre ; and as for yonder crowd. 
The happiness to hate them all. 
Vol. III. 12 



04 TO THE MEMORY OF OR. Li^OlTD 

I wmke no apology for the introduction ofik$ folf 
lowing Unes, though 1 have never learned toho wrote 
them. Their eUgantee will suffieienthy recommend tkem 
to persons of Hassieal taste and erudition, and' I shdL 
le happy \f the English version that they have received 
from mCf be found not td dishonour them. Affection 
for the memory of the worthy man whom they tklebrate, 
alone prompted, ma to this endeavour. 

W. COWPER. 



VERSES 



THE MEMORY OP DR. LLOYD, 

•POKCH AT THB WK8TMINSTBR XLSOTnS lOBtV ATTII 
HIS DSCEASS. 

Abut sonox ! periit senez amabilis ! 

Quo non fait jucundior. 
Lugote vos, letas quibus matnrior 

Senem colendum prsestitit, 
Seu quando, viribus valenlioribTis * 

Firmoque fretus pectore, 
~ Floreiitiori vos juventute excolens 

Cura fovebat patria. 
Seu quando fractuB, jamque donatus rtide, 

Vultu Bed usque blandulo, 
Miscere gaudebat suas facetias 

His annuls leporibus. 
Vixit probijp, puraqua simplex indole 

Blandisque coiriis moribus, * 



TO THE MEMORY OF DR. i»UOYO. 13i) 
£t dives 83Qua mento— charvui omniho% 

Unius* auctus munere. 
Itetitulil mentis beatioribuB 

Aptate laudes debitas ! 
Nee inyidebat ille, si quibus fareiis 

Fortuna plus arriser^^t. 
Flacido aenez 1 lev! quiescas ceepin, 

Etsi superbom nee vIyo tiM 
Decos sit inditum, nee mortuo' 

Lapis notatus nomine. 



THE SAME IN ENGUSH. 

dm good old friend is gcme, gone to his rest, 
Whose soeial.conyerse was, itself, a feasi. 
O ye of riper age, who recollect 
How once ye loved, and eyed him with respect* 
Both in the firmness of his better day. 
While yet he ruled you with a father^s sway* 
And when, impair'd by time, and glad to rest, 
Tet still with loqks In mild complacence dresp 'd, 
He took his annual ^eat, and mingled h^e 
His sprightly vein with yours— now drop a tear. 
In morals blameless as in manners meek, 
He knew no* wish that he might blush to spe^, 
But, happy in whatever state below, 
And richer than the rich in being so, 
Obtain'd the hearts of all, and such a meed 
At length froni One,t as made him rich indoed. 

• He was usher and nnder^naster of Wostmivislor flfear fiftj 
years, and retired from bis occupation when he was near soi 
venly, with a handsome pension from the king, 

t Spe the note ia the Latin copy. 



.«fe^= 



186 TO MRS. THROCKMORTON. 

Hence then, ye titles, hence, not wanted here 
Go, garnish merit in a brighter sphere, 
The brows of those whose more exalted lot 
He could congratulate, but enried not. 

Light lie the tnrf, good Senior ! on thf htenaif 
Andy tranquil as thj mind was, be thy rest ! 
Tho' living, thou hadst more desert than f«me, 
And not & stonC; now, ohrenleles thy Aame. 



TO MRS. THROCKMORTON, 

OH 
BXB BXAVTIFUL TRAVSCRIPT OF HORACB'S ODBf 

AD LiBRXHif smm. 

IFehnattfi 1790.] 

Maria, could Horace htrre gnesii^ 

What honettf a#aited his ode. 
To his own little ^kune'sddressM, 

The faonout- which you hare bestow'd, 
Who hare traded It in characters herd 

Bo eleganti oreil, and neat, 
He had laugh*d at the critical sneer^ 

Which ha seems to hare trembled to meet 

And sneer, if you please, he had said, 

A nymph shall hereafter arise, 
Who riudl give me, when you are all dead. 

The glory your malice denies. 
BtaSl dignity give to my lay, 

Altliough but a mere bagatelle ; 
And even a poet shall say, 

Nothing ever was written so welL 



{137) 



INSCRIPTION 

F#r • SUme erected at the Sowing of a Grove tf Omk$ 
tU (MUngton, the seat of T. Oifford^ Etq. 

1790. 

IJme, 1790.] 

Othxb itoaefl tha tni teil, 
When some feeble mortal fell ; 
I stand here to date the birth 
Of theae hardy sons of Earth. 

Which shall longest braye the alqrt 
StonD and firost^-these oahs or I M 
Pass an age or two away, 
I most moulder and deeay. 
But the years that emmble me 
Shall inTigonte the tree. 
Spread its branch, dilate itM die, 
Lift its snmiiiit lo^thtt i" 



CSieiiiii hotuntf virta^ tnrtl^ 
So shaU thoa pfolong thy yoalh. 
Wantiiig^ these, however fiwl 
Mast be 62*4 and ferm'd to faMl 
He is lifeless even now, 
Stone at heart, and eannol grow. 
12* 



CI*) 
ANOTHER, 

Far a SUme erected an a similar occasion at the aame 
place in thsfottotoing year. 

IJune, 1790.] 

RxADXR ! Behold a moirament 

That aiaks no sigh ot tear. 
Though it perpetuate the erent 

Of a great VorM hi^ttf. 

Ittilfo 1791. 



fiYMN, 

roii THjt vsE or tbx. 
SUNDAY SCfidOL At titNEY, 

Hbar, Lotd, ibe ttmg of pndrio «hI #ilij*r. 

In heavto iky dwt^Xaig^lmem, 
From infantt^ Dfeadb tke ^oUisk fsntf 

And tauglrt Ift Mfk tliy Mb ! 

Thanks for thy Word and for thy i>^^ 

And grant us, we implore, * ■ 
Never to waste In sinful play 

Thy holy Sabbatli more. « ^ 

Thanks that we hear — but oh impart 

To each desire sincere, 
That we may listen with our hearty 

And learn as well as hear 



STANZAS. m 

For if vain tlioiights tbe nuacbi «iigaga 

Of older far thaa we^ 
Wliat hop9 that it our beedteai «g« 

Our rnindfl shiNdd e'er be irovS 

Mucli hflpe> if thou our spirite tain 

Under thj gt^Mmjm away^ 
Who canst the wisest wiaer rndte^ 

And babes at win at tiey* 

Wisdom aad bins thy word h rn kt ml ^ 

A sun that ]iB*er dsdasee } 
And be tl^ mereies showY*d en 

Who plac*d t» where k rioikes.* 



-^O^- 



8TAN^A9 



On the late indecent Uhe^Us Uken v>itk Mai Remmiu 
of the great MiUonr-^Anno 1780. 

lAugustyVf^} 

" Mk-Ioo, perchance, in fiiture days, 
The sculptured stone shall show 

With Paphian myrtle or with bays 
Parnassian on my brow. 

* Note by the Edito]:. This Hymn was written at tlie Fe> 
quest of the Rev. James Bean, then Vicar of OIney, to be 
fUDg by the children of the Sunday Schools of that town, 
ailcr a Charity Sermon, preached at the Parish Church for 
ibeir benefit, on Sunday, July 3], 1790. 



110 STANZAS. 

Bat I, or •n that leaaon come, 

Eicaped from oveiy caro, 
Shhll Mack my refugo in the tomib^ 

And bImp aaemdj ibare.*'* 

80 nngy in Roman tono and atyley 
The youthful bard, ere long 

Oidain'd to fraee his native iale 
With her mdilhneat song. 

Who then bat most conceive djedain. 

Hearing the deed onblest 
Of wietchee who iutve dar'd profane 

His dread sepalchral rest? 

lU fiire the hands that heav'd the stones 

Where Milton's ashes lay. 
Thai trembled not to grasp his bones, 

And steal his dust away ! 

O fil-reqaited bard I negleot 

Thy living worth repaid. 
And blind idolatroas respect 

As nmeh affironts the doad« 

* ForsitaB et noilrof chicat de aaannora vnlUis 
Nedeas aol Paphia myrti aut Pamassicie lauri 
IWsKle oooras. • • At ego aecura pace quiescam. 

JMilion in Maioa 



r A-aa e a 



(141) 



TO MRa KING 



Ber kind Preitmi to the JhiA^r^^FaUk-w^Ot Cat» 

Urpans of h§r 01011 makings 

[Jhi^ust 14, 1790.] 

Th« Bard, if e*er ho feel at all, 
Must sure be quicken'd by a call 

Both on his heart and head, 
To pay with tuneful tlumks the care 
And kindness of a lady fair, 

Who deigns to deck his bed. 

A bed like this, in ancient time, 
On Ida's barren top sublime, 

(Xs Homer's Eptek shows) 
Compos'd of sweetest vernal flow'rs. 
Without the aTd of sun or showVs, 

For Jove and Juno rose. 

Less beautiful, however gay. 

Is that which in the scorching day 

Receives the weary swain 
Who, laying his long sithe aside, 
bleeps on some bank with daisies pied^ 

Tin rous'd to toil agafai. 

l¥hat laboun of the loom I se^ ! 
Looms numberless have gnmii'd for m& 

Should ev*ry maiden ^me 
4V9 •^raffible ibr.tbe patch that bMOi 
Th^ impress of the rebe she wem, 

The bell would toll (br some. 



142 ANECDOTE OF HOMEtt. 

And ohy what havock wou)4 ensuo * 
This bright displaj of ev'ry hue 

All in a moment fled ! 
As if a storm should strip the bow'n 
Of all their tendrils, leaves, and flow*ni^' 

Each pocketing a shred. 

Thanks, then, to er'iy gentle lab 
Who will not come to peek me bare 

As bird of borrowed feather. 
And thanks, to One, above them ally 
The gentle Fair of Pertenhall, 

Who'put the whole together. 



lOctober, 1790.] 

* Certam Potters, while they were busied in baking then 
ware, seeing Homer at a sn^^all distance, and having beard 
mach said of his wisdom, called to him, and pronused him a 
present of their conmiodity, and of such other things as th^ 
could aflbfd, if he would sing to them, when he sang &s fill* 
lowst 

Pat mc my price, Potters ! and I will sinn^ • 
Attend, .O Pallas! and with liftcd.arm 
Protect their oven ; let the cups and all 
The sacred vessels blacken well, and baked 
With good success, yield them both fair rcaown 

• Note by the Editor. JVb liilt ispr^U^ to this 
piece : bui it afpeart to he a transUuion ^one of Ue 
Xmy^fLfiara of Homer, caUcd *0 Kofuvtf or the Fur* 
naee. The prrfatory Unes are from the Greek of He- 
rodotuSf or whoever toot the Author ^ the Life of 
Homer ascribed to him 



ANECDOTB OK HOMKR 143 

And profit, wbet^r in tho market sold, 
Or street, and let na fltrife ensue between ut; 
Bttty oh, ye Potters ! if with shameless front, 
Te falsify your promise, then I leave 
No misohief oninrok^d t* avenge the wrong. 
Come Syntrips, Smaragus, Sftbactes come, 
And Asbetiis, nor lot your direst dread, 
Omodamus, delay 1 Fire seize your house, 
May neither house nor vestibule escape, 
May ye hunent to see eonfusion mar 
And mingle the wliole hdboot of your Iiands, 
And may a sound fill all your oven, suclT 
As of a horse gfindiBg his provender, 
WhiTe all your pots and flagons bounce within. 
Come hither also, daughter of the sun, 
Circe the Sorosress, ahd witii thy drugs 
Poison themselves, and all that thoy have made 
Come also, Ohiron, with thy num'rous troop 
Of Centaurs, as well those who died beneath 
The elttb of Hercules, as who escaped, 
And stamp their crockery to dust ; down fall 
Their chUnney ; let them see k with their eyesf 
And howl to see the rutn of their art, 
WI1II& I rejoioe; and if a petter etoop 
To peep into his fbmace, may tho fire 
Flash in his face and seorcli it, that all men 
Obserre, theneefofth| equity tnd good fiMfh 



(144 ; 
IK MEiiOft Y 

OF tms tATK 

JOHN THORNTON. K§^ 

[j^i«Mi&Mvi7oai 

PoxTf attempt the noUert tMk4iieir «l»* 
Prmbing tJw Author of aU g oodin janiti, 
Andy next, comiiiBiiioniting WoBtkiB9 -loAti 
The Dead in wham tiuct fi;ood abomcbiL-BMltt* 



Thee, therefiMre, of eommafcial ^umAfhat i 
Famed for thj prabi^ firom ahoreitoAhaEa^ 
Thee, Thobktoh ! worthy m aooieipafa to.duHOy 
As honesty and more «loqnent than mua, 
I roonm ; Wy ainoe thrice happy 4ho« inprt he, 
The worid, no lottger ^y ahodOy not thae« 
Thee to deplore^ weitefrief mii|)raBt mdaedi^ - 
It were to weep that ftKxbieaaiiiiaitaJiBBed^ 
That thereia btiaa ^repa^ed te jpatadertaky, . . 
And glory for the Ttrtuous, whan they di&. 

What pleasure can the nuser*8 fondled board, 
Or spendthrift's prodigal excess afford. 
Sweet as the privilege of healing wo 
By virtue suffer'd combating below ? 
That privilege was thine ; Heav*n gave thee means 
T' illamine with delight the saddeitf seenes, 
Till thy appearance chased the gloom, forlorn 
As midnight, and despairing of a mom. 
Thou hadst an industry in doing good. 
Restless as his who toils and sweats for food : 



r^ 



TH£ FOUitAQES. Ufi^ 

kw'jOMimlSme^ wof the desire of wealtU 
By met impMiab^ble or by ftoalth, 
And if the genwAe worth of goid depeB4 
On appUcaAion to ite nebleet end» 
Thine had a valiw in the acalea of HeaY*n» 
BnipaMing all that mmr or mint W |^y*su 
And, though God mude thee of a n»jtiffe FS«i# 
To distribntion bo^jpcUeie of thy own. 
And still by mo^yes of religiou* forc9 
Impell'd thee xaom to that heroick coacsei^ 
Tet was thy liberality diecraat^ 
Nice in its choice, and of a tempered heaft ; 
And though in act unwearied, secret still, 
As in some fcditnde the wmmer rHl . 
Refreshes, where it winds, the laded green, 
And cheere the drooping flowers, unheard, um»afi^ 

Saoh WM thy Charity ; no sudden start^ 
After long sleap «f oaaBon in the heart, 
But steadfast p^ndple, «id» in U« hiodit 
Of close relation to th' eternal mind, 
Traced easily te its true senroe abovf* 
To him, whose wedui bespeak hia nature, hov% 

Thy bounties all were Chriotian, und I maJM 
This record of thee for the Gospel's soke i 
That the iacredulomi themielyen may a$« 
Its use and power exemplified in thee* . 



THE FOUR AGES. 

. [dtf brief fragmenf of an extensive projected Poem. I 

** I could be well content, allow'd the use 
Of past experience, and the wisdom gleaned 
From worn-out follies, now acknowledged suoh^ 
To recommence life's trial in the hopo 
Of fewer orrours, on a second proof" 

Vol.111. 13 



140 THE FOUR AGES 

Thus, while ipray eToning luU*d the wtad, and caBfd 
Fresh odoura from the ^ubb*ry at my tide. 
Taking my lonely winding walk, I roiu'd, 
And held accustom'd conference with my heart, 
When, fromwithhi it, thus a Toice replied. 
" Couldst thou in truth ' and art theu taught at length 
Thi^ widdoin, and hut this, from all the past ' 
Is not the pardon of thy long arrear, 
Time wasted, violated laws, abuse 
Of talents, judgments, mercies, better far 
Than opportunity vouchsaTd to err 
With less excuse, and haply, worse. eShct ?** 

I heard, and acquiesced ; then to and fro 
Oft pacing, as the mariner his deck. 
My gravTly bounds, from self to humi^ kind 
I paas*d, and next considered —what is Man ? 

Knows he his origin ? can he ascend 
By reminiscence to his e^liest date ? 
Slept he in Adam ? and in thof^e from him 
Tlurough num*rous generations, tin he found' 
At length his destined moment to be bom ? 
Or was he not, till fashion'd in the womb ? 
Deep myst'ries both ! ^ich schoolmen much have 103*4 
T6 unriddle, and have left them myst'ries stiH. 

It is an evil incident to man, 
And of the worst, that unexplor'd he leaves 
Truths useful and attainable with ease, . 
To search forbidden deeps, where myst*ry liee 
Not to be solvM, and useless if it might. 
Myst'ries are food for angels ; they digest 
With ease', and find them nutriment ; but man. 
While yet he dwells below, must stoop to glean 
His manna from the ground^ or starve and die 



THE JUDGMENT OF" THE POETS 

Wfoy,1791.] 

Two njrinphs, both nearly of an age, 

Of numerous charms possoss'd, 
A warm dispute once chanc'd to wage. 

Whose temper was the best. 

The worth of each had been complete 

Had both aUke been mild. 
But one, although her smile was swjdeft^ 

Frown'd oflencx.than she smil'd. 

And in her homour, when she frowned 

Would raise her voice and roar. 
And shake with fury to the ground 

The garland that she wore. 

The other was of gentler cast, 

From all such frenzy clear, 
Her frowns were seldom known to last, 

And never prov'd severe. 

To poets of renown in song 

The nymphs referred the cause, 
Who, strange to tell, all judg*d it wrong, 

And gave misplaced applause. 

They gentle caird, and kind and soft. 

The flippant and the scold, 
And though she changed her mood so oft, 

That failing left untold. 



9i&3S0«: 



148 THE JUDGMENT OF THE POETBI 
No jadgesi suroi were o'er so mad, 

Or «o resolv'd to err — 
In shorty the charms her sister had 

They lavish'd all on her. 

Then thus the god whom foUdly they 

Their great inspirer call, 
Was heard, one geidal sBmmer*s day. 

To reprimand them alL 

*> Since thus ye havd combin*d,^ he mU, 
** My farourite nymph to sl^t. 

Adorning May, that peeviah maid, 
yiith June's undoubted ri^t. 

•* The Minx shall for your foll/s taks 

Still prove herself a direw, 
Shan make your scribbling fingert acbi^ 

And pinch yovriKMMUM. 



t t^. 



^sss^seB 



TJUNSLATIONS 
LATIN AND ITALIAN PQEMS 

CF 

MELTON. 

B9gw^ September^ 1791. Fim$^$4, Marek^ 1798.) 
18* 



lb 



(150) 



TEAKSLATIONS 



THE L.ATIN POEMS, 



ELEGIES. 




ELEGY L 

TO CHARLES DIODATL 

At length, my frSnd, the far sent letters come 

Charged with thy kmdness, to their destined home ; 

They come, at length, from Deva's Western side 

Where prone she seeks the salt Vergivian tide. 

Tmst me, my joy is great that thou shouldst be, 

Thongh bom of foreign race, yet bom for me, 

And that my sprightly friend, now free to roam, 

Must seek again so soon his wonted home. 

I well content, where Thames with refluent tide, 

My native city laves, meantime reside, 

Nor zeal npr duty, now, my steps impel 

To reedy Cam, and my ferbidden celL 

Nor aught of pleasure in those fields have I, 

That, to the musing bard, all shade deny. 



^<a ' 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MTLTOW. 15. 
Tis time, that I, a pediftnt*b ^irettU diddtan, 
And fly from wrohgs my a<9Q\ will n^'et MUfttthf. 
If peaceful days, in lettor'd leiftiire «|)Mit^ 
Beneath my Iktlier^i roof, be baniehment, 
Then call me baniinh'd, I win no^er reftWe 
A name exj^niaiiiv^ of the lot I chckMe. 
I would, that, exiled to the FofiUbk cihdris, 
Rome's hapleal bard had ^fkri n&hflkg looMi 
He then had equallM even Homer V lays. 
And Virgil ! thou hadflt won but second pndsd 
For here I woo the mtrte ; with no eontrel, 
And hero mj books^-'-my fife^^absorb mil whok 
Here too I visit, or to smilb, or weep, 
The winding theatre^ hu^Mtiek sweep , 
Hie gnrre or gay eolloquial scene reeraito 
My spirits, speht m learning's k>ng piuHidit^ ; 
Whether some senior shrewd, or spendthHft heilr 
Suitor, or soldier, now miarm'd, be theroi 
Or some coiTd brooder o'er a ten y^aaM' eailsi6, 
Thunder the Norman gibb'rish of the laws. 
The lacquey, there, oil dupes the wary sire, 
And, ar^ul, speeds th' enamour'd son's destre* 
There, Tirgins oft, unieohidiijaif Whatthe^ pttff^. 
What lore is, Imo^ not, yet taHkac^r^j loraf. 
Or, if impassion^ Tkgedy Wiald high 
The bloody sceptre, give hei* lockii to Hif 
Wild as the winds, and r^ll h^r 1iaggai<d c^^ 
I gaze, and grier^j stUl ehafisking my gri^. 
At times, e'en bittet tears ! jf4e1d sweet rdi^if. 
As when fttan Misa tmtasfed torn away, 
Some youth dieis, hapletls, on hb bHdal day. 
Or when the ghoiit, i»nt back to i^ades below, 
Fills the assassin's heart With rtogeftil wo. 
When Troy, or Argos, the dire i^cene aflbrds, 
Or Creon's haK laments its guilty Ic^ds. 
Nor always city-pent, or pent at home, 
I dwell ', but, when spring callti mefbrth'tb team 



m TRAKSLATIOHS FROM MjI^TO^. 

Expatiate in our proud suburban shades 
Of brandling elm, that noTer sun pervades. 
Here manj a Tirgin troop I may descry. 
Like stars of mildest influence, gliding by. 
Oh forms dlYine ! Oh looks that might inspire 
E'en JoTO himself, grown old, with young desire ' 
Oft have I gaaed on gem*surpassing eyes, 
Ont-spacklii^ every star that gilds the skies. 
Necks whiter than the ivMry arm bestowed 
Bj Jove on Felops, or the milky road I 
Bright locks, liove's golden snare !. those fiUUng low 
Those playing wanton o*er the graceful brow ! 
Cheeks too, more winning sweet than afler show'r 
Adonis tum*d to Flora's fay'rite flower ! 
Yield, heroines, yield, and ye who shar'd th* embrace 
Of Jupiter in ancient times, give place ! . 
Give place, ye turbann'd fair of Persia's coast ! 
And ye, not less renown'd, Assyria's boast I 
Submit, ye nymphl* of Greece ! ye, once ^e bloom 
Of Uion ! and aU ye, of haughty Rome. 
Who swept, of iMf her theatres with txaing 
Redundant, and still live in elassldi strains *. 
To British damiek beanty's palm is dua. 
Aliens i jta-feUow them if lame for yow^ .. < . 
Oh city, founded by Dardaaian hands, 
Whose toweriag £rant the circling realm coittmands,^ 
Too blest abode ! no loveliness we see 
In all the earth, but it abounds in thee. 
The virgin multitude that daily meets, 
Radiant with gold and beauty, in thy streets. 
Out-numbers all her train of starry fires. 
With which Diana gilds thy lofly pfUTes. 
Fame says, that wafted -hither by hor doves. 
With all her host of quiver>bearing loves, 
Venus, preferring Paphian scenes no more, 
Has fiz'd her empire on thy nobler shore. 
But lest the sightless boy enforce my stay, 
leave these happv walJs, Trhile'yet I^may 



^ 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 153 
Immortal Moly shatl lecure my heart 
From all tho 8or6'ry of Circcan art, 
And ^will e'en repass Cam's reedy pools 
To fteo oAee more tho warfkre of the schools. 
MMMime sooept tbu trifle ! rhymo* though feir, 
Yet such as prore thy &ioiid')B remembrance true 



£L£GT U. 



DEATH OP THE UNIVERSITY BEADI-E 
AT CAMBRIDGE. 

Composed by Milton €n tKt i7tk year of his age 

Thex, whose refulgent staff, and summons clear, 
Minerva** flock long lime was wont t' obey, 

Although thyself an herald, famous here, 

The last of heralds. Death, lias snatch'd away. 

He calls on all alike, nor even deigns 

To spare the office, that himself sustains. 

Thy locks were- whiter than the plumes displayed 

By Lcda's paramour in ancient time, 
But thou wast worthy ne'er to have decay'd, 

Or JEson-like, to know a sccoml prime, 
Worthy, for whom some goddess shall have won 
New life, oil kneeling to Apollo's son. 

CVmmiission'd to convene, with hasty call. 
The gowned tribes, how gracef\il #o«itdst 
■tttid! 

80 stood Cytleitius erst in Priam's hall, 
WiHg4boted messenger of Jove** command ! 



51 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON, 

Aod so Eurybatesi when he addressed 
To Poleus* son, Atrides* proud behest. 

Dread qoeen of sepulchres ! whose rig'roiui latwi. 

And watchful eyeUf ran through the reshns belMf. 
Oh oCt too adverse to Mmerva.*s cause ! 

Too often to the muse not less a foe ! 
Choose meaner marks, and with more equal aim 
Pierce useless drones, earUi's burthen, and its shanio 

Flow, therefore, tears for him, from ev'iy eye, 

All ye disciples of the muses, weep ! 
Assembling, all, in robes of sable die, 

Around his bier, lament his endless sleep \ 
And let complaining elegy rehearse, 
In erery sehool, her sweetest, saddest Yerso ' 



ELEGY HI. 

ow 

THE DEATH 

or THE 

BISHOP OF WINCHESTER. 

Composed in the Autlwr^a 17lh year, 

Sif^NT I sat, dejected, and alone, 

Making, in thought, the publick woes my •wn. 

When, first, arose tho, imago in my breast 

Of England's suffering by that scourge, the- PesI ! 



=J 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 155 
How death I his fonYal torch and sithe in hand, 
Entering the lordliest mansions of the land 
Has laid the gem'illuniin'd palace low. 
And lei^ell'd tribes of nobles at a blow. * 

J, next, deplor'd the fam'd paternal pair, 
Too soon to ashes tarn'd, and smpty air i 
The heroes next, whom saatch'd into tha skieSy 
All Belgta saw, and followed witk her aigliSf 
But thee far most I mourn'd, regretted roost, 
Winton's chief shepherd, and her worthiett boast ! 
Pour 'd out in tears I thus complaining said ; 
'' Death, next in pow*r to him, who rules the dead ' 
Is*t not enough that all the woodlands yield 
To thy fen Ibrce, and eT*ry Verdant field, 
That lilies, at one noisome blast of thine, 
And e'en the Cjrprian queen's own roses pine, 
That oaks themselves, although the running rill 
Suckle their roots, must wither at thy will, 
That all the winged nations, eveusthoee,- 
Whose heaT*n-directed flight the future shows, 
And all the beasts, that in dark forests stray. 
And all the herds of Proteus are thy prey. 
Ah envious ! arm*d with pow'rs so unoonfin'd ! 
Why stain thy hands with blood of human kind ? 
Why take delight with darts, that never roam. 
To chase a heav*n-bora spbni from her home ^" 



While thus I moumM the star of evening stood, 
Now newly ris'n above the western flood. 
And Phoebus, from his morning-goal, again 
Had reached the gulfs of the Iberian main. 
I wish'd repose, and, on my couch dedin'd, 
Took early rocrt, to night and sleep resigned : 
When — Oh for words to paint what I beheld * 
I seem'd to wander in a spacious field, - 
Where all the champaign glow'd with purple light 
Like that of sun-rise on the mountain height : 



186 TRANSi.ATiOJNS FKOM MUTTON* 
Flowers oyer all the fields of every hue 
That ever Iris wore, luxurumit grew. 
Nor Chloris, with whom am'roqs Zephyrs j^ji 
E*er dressed Alcinoos' gviMk h»lf so gay. 
A silver current, Hke the Tagus, roU'd 
O'er golden sands, bvit^ndf of purer gold* 
With dewy am Favoaios iMin'd the flow>^ 
With airs awakened under rosy bow'rs. 
8uoh, poets feign, irradiatod all o'er 
The son's abode on India's utmost shorf . 



While I, that splendour, and the nungled shiM^e 
Of fruitful vines, with wonder fo*4 siinrey'df 
At once, with looks that beamed eeVesiUl gtacei^ 
The seer of Wialon stood before my iKU^e. 
His snowy vosture's hom desoendlng low * 
His golden samlols swept, aiid pure as suow 
New-fallen shone the mitre on his brow. 
Where'er helrod, a tremulous sweet souiifif 
Of gla^Mss shook the llow'ry scene arouod « 
Attendant angels clap their starry wings, 
The trumpet shakes the sky, all letber rings , 
Each chants his welcome, folds him to his breftst^ 
And thos a sweeter voice thftn all the rest : 
" Ascend, my son 1 thy father's kingdom share t 
My son ! hence£»cth be freed from ^v'rj care !" 

So spake the voice, and »t Hs tender cIoM 
With psalt'ry*8 sound th' imgetUck band arose. 
Then night retired, and chas'd by dawiung day 
The visionary bliss pass'd aU away. 
I mourn'd my banish'd sleep, with fond concom ; 
Frequent to me may droAms like this return 



(157) 
ELEGY IV. 

TO HIS TVTOB, 

THOMAS YOUNG, 

CHAPfJLIN TO THS EXTGLISH FACTORY AT »AMlitni6 

ff^titten in the Author^s 18f/t year, 

Hkhcx my epistle — skim the deep — ^fly o'er 
Yon smooth expanse to the Teutonick shore ! 
Haste — ^lest a friend should grieve for thy dclay-^ 
And the gods grant, that nothing thwart thy way 
1 will myself iuToke the king, who binds. 
In his Sieanian echoing vaalt, the winds, 
With Doris and her nymphs, and all the throng 
Of azure gods, to speed thee safe along. 
But rather, to ensure thy happier Iiasto, 
Ascend Medea's chariot, if thou may'st ; 
Or that, whence young Triptolemus of yore 
Defcended, welcome on the Scylthian shore 

The sands, that line the German coast, descried, 
To opulent Hamhurga turn aside ! 
So called, if legendary fame be true. 
From Hama, whom a club-arm'd Cimbrian slew \ 
There lives, deep-learn'd and primitively just, 
A faithful steward of his christian trust, 
My friend, and favourite inmate of niy heart. 
That now is forced to want its better part ! 
What mountains now, and seas, alas ! how wide ' 
From me this other, dearer self divide ; 
Dear as the sage renown'd for moral truth 
To the prime spirit of the attick youth ' 

Vol. III. 14 



i 



158 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON 
Dear as the Stagy rite to Amnion's son, 
His pupil, who disdain'd the world ho won ! 
Nor BO did Chiron, or so Phoenix shine 
In yonng Achilles* eyes, as he in mine.' 
First led by him thro' sweet Aonian sliadc, 
Each sacred hannt ef Pindus I surveyed , 
And favoured by the muse whom I implor'd, 
Thrice on my lip the hallow'd stream I pour'd. 
But thrice the sun's resplendent chariot roll'd 
To Aries, has new ting'd his fleece witli gold. 
And Chloris twice has dross'd tJie meadows gay. 
And twice has summer parch'd their bloom away, 
Since last delighted on his looks I hung, 
Or my ear drank the musick of his tongue ; 
Fly, therefore, and surpass the tempest's speed > 
Aware thyself, that there is urgent need ! 
Uim, entering, thou shalt hUply seated see 
Beside his spouse, liis infants on his knee. 
Or turning, page by page, with studious look. 
Some bulky father, or God's holy book. 
Or minist'ring (which is his weightiest care) 
To Christ^s assembled flock their heavenly fare 
Give him, whatever his employment be, 
Such gratulation as he claims from me I 
And, with a downcast.cye, and. carriage uieok. 
Addressing him, forget not thus to speak ! 

" If, compassed round with arms, thou caju't altc)i4 
To verse, verse greets thee from a distant frivud. 
Long due, and late, I left the English shore ; 
But m{(ke me welcome for that cause the inorc I 
Such from Ulysses, his chaste wife to cheer 
The slow epistle came, tliough late, sincere 
But wherefore this ? why palliate I the dcea 
For which the culprit's self could hardly plead i 
Self-charged, and self-condemn 'd, his proper part 
He feels neglected, with an aching heart : 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 159 
Bat thou forgive — delinquents, who confess, 
And pray forgiveness, merit anger less ; 
From timid fo(js, the lion turns away, 
Nor yawns upon or rends a crouching prey : 
£yen pike-wielding Thracians learn to spare, 
Won by soft influence of a suppliant prayer ; 
And hoay'n's dread thunderbolt arrested stands 
By a cheap victim, and Uplifted hands. 
Long had he wish'd to write, but was withheld, 
And writes at last, by love alone compell'd, 
For fame, too often true, when she alarms, 
Rcpo't? tliy neighbouring fields a scene of arms j. 
Thy city against fierce besiegers barr'd. 
And all the Saxon chieft for fight prepar'd. 
Enyo wastes thy country wide around. 
And saturates with blood the tainted ground ; 
Mars rests contented in his Thrace i^o more, 
But goads his steeds to fields of German goro. 
The ever verdant olive fades and dies. 
And peace, the trumpet-hating goddess, flies, 
Flies from that earth which justice long had left, 
And loaves the world of its last guard bereft. 

Thus horrour girds thee round. Meantime aloxM 
Thou dwell'st, and liel{fless in a.^oil unknown ; 
Poor and receiving from a foreign hand 
The aid denied thee in thy native land. 
Oh, ruthless country, and unfeeling more 
Than thy own billow-beaten chalky shore ! 
Leav*st thou to foreign care the worthies, giv'ii 
By Providence to guide thy steps to Heav'n ' 
His ministers commission'd to proclaim 
£ternal blessings in a Saviour's name ! 
Ah then most worthy, with a soul unfed, 
[n Stygian night to lie for ever dead. 
So once the venerable Tishbite stray'd 
An exird fugitive from shade to shade, ^ 



160 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 
When, flying Ahab, and his fury wife, • 
In long Arabian wilda he sheltered life > 
So, from Philippic wander 'd forth forlorn 
Cillcian Paul, with sounding scourges torn ; 
And Christ himself so -left, and trod no more, ' 
The thankless Gergesenes' forbidden shore. 

But thou take courage I. strive against despair ! 
Quake not with dread, nor nourisK anxious care 
Grim war indeed on every side appears, 
And thou art menaced by a thousand spears ; 
Tet none shall drink thy blood, or shall offisndi 
£*en the defenceless bosom of my friend. 
For thee the £gis of thy God shall hide, 
Jehovah*s self shall combat on tliy side } 
The same, who vanquish 'd, under Sion*s tow*rt 
At silent midnight, all Assyrians pow'rs, 
The same who overtlirew in ages past, 
Damascus' sons that laid Samaria waste ! 
Their king he fiU'd, and tliem with fatal fears, 
By mimick sounds of clarions in their ears. 
Of hoofs, and wheels, and neighings from afiuri 
Of clashing armour, and the din of war. 

Thou, therefore, (os the most afflicted) may 
Still hope, and triumph o'er the evil day ; 
Look fortli, expecting happier times to com^ 
And to enjoy, 'once more, thy native home * 




Vl61) 



ELEGY V. 



APPROACH OF SPRING. 



Written in the Author's 20th Year. 

TiME) never wandTing from his annual round. 
Bids Zephyr breathe the spring, and thaw the grounii 
Bleak winter flies, new verdure clothes the plain, 
And earth assumes her transient youth again* 
Dream I, or also to the spring belong 
Increase of genius, and new pow'rs of song ? 
Spring gives them, and how strange soe'er it seemSi 
Impels me now to some hjirmonious themes. 
Castalia's fountain and the forkedJiill 
By day, by night, my raptur'd fancy fill ; 
My bosom bums and heaves, I hear within 
A sacred sound, that prompts me to begin. 
Lo ! Phebus comes, with his bright hair he blends - 
The radiant laurel wreath ; Phoebus descends; 
I mount, and, undepressed by cumb reus clay. 
Through cloudy regions win my easy way ; 
Hapt through poetick shadowy haunts I fly * 
The shrines all open to my dauntless eye. 
My spirit searches all the realms of light, 
And no Tartarean gulfs elude my sight. 
But this ecstatick trance — this glorious storm 
Of inspiration — ^what will it perform ? 
Spring claims the verse, that with his influence giowk^ 
And shall be paid with what himself bestows. 



168 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 

Thou, yeird with opMing foliacre, lead'st the thnmi 
Of feather'd minstrols, Philomel ! in 8ong ; 
Let OS, in concert, to the season sing, 
C^viok, and sylyan heralds of the spring ! 

With notes triamphiCnt, spring's approach deckre 
To spring, 70 Muses, annual tribute bear ! 
The Orient left, and JEthiopia's plains, 
The son now northward turns his golden reins ; 
Night creeps not now ; yet roles with gentle swaj ; 
And drives her dusky horrours swift away ; 
Now less fatigued, on this ethereal plain 
Bootes follows his celestial wain ; 
And now the radiant sentinels aboTe, 
Less num*rous, watch around the courts of Jove, 
For, with the night, force, ambush', slaughter fly 
And no gigantick guilt alarms the sky. 
Now haply says some shepherd, while he views. 
Recumbent on a rock, the redd'ning dews, 
This night, this surely, Phoibus miss'd the fair, 
Who stops his chariot by her am*rous care. 
Cynthia, delighted by the moming^s glow. 
Speeds to the woodland, and resumes her bow , 
Resigns her beams, and glad to disappear. 
Blesses his aid, who shortens her career. 
Come — ^Phoebus cries — ^Aurora come---too late 
Thou ling*rest sluipb^ring with thy withered mate ' 
Leaye him, and to Hymettu's top repair .' 
Thy darling Cephalus expects thee there. 
The goddess, with a blush, her love betrays, 
But mounts, and driving rapidly, obeys. 
Earth now desires thee, Phoebus ! and t' engage 
Thy warm embrace, casts off the guise of age .; 
Desires thee, and deserves ; for who so sweet. 
When her rich bosom courts thy genial heat r 
Her breath imparts to ev'ry breeze that blows, 
Aralua's harvest, and the Paphian rose. 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 163 
finr loflty front she diadems around 
With sacred j^nes, lik\3 Ops on Ida erown*d : 
Her dewy locks, wiUi varioas ilow'rs new-blown, 
She mterweayes, varioas, and all her own. 
For Proserpine, in sach a wreath attir'd, 
Tmiarian Dis himself with love inspired. 
Fear not, lest, cold and coy, the nymph refuse ! 
Herself, with all her sighing Zephyrs, sues ; 
Each courts thee, fannmg soft his scented wing. 
And all her groves with warUed wishes ring. 
Now, unendowed and indigent, aspires. 
The am'roufl Earth to engage thy warm desires, 
But, rich in balmy drugs, assist thy claim, 
Divine Physician ! to that glorious name, 
If splendid recompense, if gifts can move 
Desii^ in thee, (gifts often purchase love,) 
She offers all the wealth her mountains hide, 
And all that rests beneath the boundless tide. 
How oft, when headlong from the heavenly steep, 
She sees the« playing in the western deep, 
How oft she cries — ^* Ah Phoebus I why repair 
Thy wasted forc^, why seek refreshment there ! 
Can Tetbys win thee ? wherefore shouldst thou lave 
A face so fair in her unpleasant wave ? 
Come, seek my green tetreats, and rather choose 
To cool thy tresses in my crystal dewS| 
The grassy turf* shall yield thee sweeter rest ; 
Come, lay thy evening glories on my breast, ' 
And breathing fresh, throtiLgh many a hmmd rose 
Boft whispering airs shall lull thee to repose 1 
No fears I feel like Semele to die, 
Nor let thy burning wheels approach too nigh, 
For thou canst govern them, here therefore rest 
And lay thy evening glories on my breast ?" 

Thus breathes the wanton earth her am'rous flame, 
And all her countless offspring feel the same ; 



164 TRANSLATiOXS FROM MILTON. 

For Cupid now Uirovgh overy region 8trayS| 

BrigUt'niog his faded fires with solar rays. 

His new-straag bow sends forth a deadlier soundi 

And his new-pointed shafts more deeply wound , 

Nor Dian's self escapes him now untried, 

Nor even Vesta at her altar-side ; 

His mother too repairs her beauty's wane, 

And seems sprung newly from the deep again. 

Exulting youths the Hymeneal sing. 

With Hymen's name roofs, rocks, and valleys, ringj 

Ho, new-attirod, and by the season dress 'd. 

Proceeds, all fragrant, in his saffron vest. 

Now, many a golden-cinctur'd virgin roves 

To taste the pleasures of the fields and groves, 

All wish, and each alike, some fav'rite youth 

Hers in the bonds of Hymeneal truth. 

Now pipes the shepherd through his reeds again, 

Nor riilllis wants a song, that suits the strain, 

With songs the seaman hails the starry sphere. 

And dolphins rise from the abyss to hear ; 

Jove feels himself the season, sporty again 

With his fair spouse, and banquets all his tiain. 

Now too the Satyrs, in the -dusk of eve, 

Their mazy dance through flow'ry meadows wcav» . 

And neither god nor goat, but both in kind, 

Silvanus wreath'd with cypress, skips behind. 

The Dryads leave their hollow sylvan cells 

To roam the banks, and solitary dells ; 

Pan riots now ; and from his amorous chafe 

Ceres and Cybele seem hardly safe^ 

And Faimus, all on fire .o reach the prize, 

In cliase of somo enticing Oread- dies ; 

She bounds before, but fears too swifl a bound, 

And hidden lies, but wishes to je found. 

Our shades entice th' Immortals from above, 

And some kind pow'r presides o'er every grove ', 

And long, ye pow'rs, o'er every grove presidp, 

For all is safe, and bliss, where ve abide ' 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 105 
Return, O Jove ! the age of ffold restore- 
Why choose to dwell where storms and thunders roar ' 
At least, thou, Phcebus ! moderate thy speed ! 
Let not the vernal hours too swift proeeed, 
Command rough winter back, nor yield the pole 
Too soon to Night's encroaching long control * 



ELEGY VI. 

TO CHARLES DiODATI, 

Who, while be spent his Christmas in the countiy, sent the 
Author a poetical epistle, in which he requested that his 
venes, if not so good as usual, might be excused on account 
of the many feasts to which his friends invited him, and which 
would not allow him leisure to finish them as he wished. 

WrrH no rich viands overcharged, I send 
Health, which perchance you want, my pampef'd 

friend ; 
But wherefore ^ould thy muse tempt mine away 
From what she loves, from darkness into day f 
Art thou desirous to be told how well 
I love thee, and in verse ? verse cannot tell . • 
For verse has bounds, and must in measure move , 
But neither bounds nor measure knows my love. 
How pleasant, in tny lines described, appear 
December's harmless sports, and rural chee^r ! 
French spirits kindling with cerulean fires, 
And all such gjambols as the time inspires * ' 

Think not that wine against prood verse offends , 
The muse and Bacchus have boon nlways friends, 



rCO TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 
Nor Phoebus blusJics sometimes to be found 
With ivy, than with laurel, crown'd. 
The Nine themselves ofttimes have join'd tbo eonf 
And revels of tlie Bacchanalian throng; 
Not even Ovid could in Scythian air 
Sing sweetly — why ? n'> vine would flourish there. 
What in brief numbers sung Anacreon's muse ? 
Wine, and th^ rose, that sparkling wine bedews. 
Pindar with Bacchus glows — ^his every line 
Breathes the rich fragrance of inspiring wine, 
While, with loud crash o'ertum'd, the chariot ]ie% 
And brown with dust the fiery courser flies. 
The Roman lyrist stecp*d in wine his lays 
So sweet in Glycera's, and Chloe's praise. 
Now to the plenteous feast and mantling bowl 
Nourish the vigour of thy sprightly soul ; 
The flowing goblet makes thy numbers flow, 
And casks not wine alone, but verse bestow. 
Thus Phoebus favours, and the arts attend. 
Whom Bacchus, and whom Ceres, both befriend* 
What wonder, then, thy verses are so sweet, 
In which these triple powers so kindly meet ! 
The lute now also sound:!, with gold inwrought) 
And touch'd ^ with flying fingers nicely taught, 
In tap'stried halls, high roord, the sprightly lyre 
Directs the dancers of the virgin choir. 
ff dull repletion fright the Muse away, 
SJghi*! e^y as these, may nore invite her stay > 
And, trust me, while the iv'ry keys resound. 
Fair damsels sport, and perfumes steam around, 
Apollo's influence, like ethereal flame, 
Shall animate at once thy glowing frame, 
And all the Muse shall rush into thy breast. 
By love and musick's blended pow'rs possess'dy 
For num'rous power's like Elegy befriend. 
Hoar her sweet voice, and at her call attend ; 
Her Bacchus, Ceres, Venus, all approve. 
And, with his blushing mother, gentle Love • 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 167 
Hence to such bards we grant the copious use 
Of banquets, and the vine's delicious juice. 
Bat they who demi-gods and heroes praise, 
And feats perform'd in Jove's more youthful days, 
Who now the counsels of high heaven explore, 
Now shades, that echo the Cerberean roar, 
Simply let these, like him of Samos live, 
Let herbs to them a bloodless banquet give ; • 

In beechen goblets let their be v 'rage shine, 
Cool from the crystal spring, their sober wine ! 
Their y6uth should pass, in innocence, secure 
From stain licentious, and in manners pure. 
Pure as the priest, when rob'd in white he stands. 
The fresh lustration ready in his hands. 
Thus LimuB liv'd, and thus, as poets write, 
Tiresias, wiser for his loss of sight ! 
Thus exii'd Chalcas, thus the bard of Thrace, 
Melodious tamer of the savage race ! 
Thus train'd by temp'rance, Homer led, of yore, 
His chief of Ithaca from shore to shore. 
Through magick Circe's monster-peopled reign, • 
And shoals insidious with the syren train; 
And through the realms, where grizzly spectres dwell, 
Whose tribes* he fetter'ddn a gory spell ; 
For these are sacred bards, and, from above, 
Drink large infusions from the mind of Jove ! 

Wouldst thou, (perhaps 'tis hardly worth thine ear, 
Wouldst thou be told my occupation here ? 
The promised King of peace employs my pen, 
Th* eternal cov'nant made for guilty men, 
The new-born Deity with infant cries 
Filling the sordid hovel, where he lies ; 
The hymning angels, and the herald star. 
That led the Wise, who sought him from afar. 
And idols on their own unhallow'd shore 
Dash'd, at his birth, to bo revc! d no more t 



=1 



IG8 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 

This theme on reeds of Albion I rehearse : 
The dawn of that Mest day inspired the verse ; 
Verse, that reserv'd in secret shall attend 
Thy candid voice, my critick, tXkd my firiend 



ELEGY VIL 



Composed tm the Attkor's l^th year. 

As yet k stranger to the gentle fires. 
That Amathoiia's sinifing queen inspire^ 
Not seldom I derided Copid*s darts, 
And scom'd his claim to rule tdl Jiuman hearts. 
** Go, child," I said, •* transfix the tim'rous dove ! 
An easy conquest suits an infant love ; 
Enslave the sparrow, for such prize shall "bo 
.Sufficient triumph to a chief like thee ! 
Why aim thy idle arms at human kind ? 
Thy shafts prevail not 'gainst the noble mind." 

The Cjrprian hoard, and, kindling into ire, 
(None kindles sooner) bum*d with double fire. 

It was the spring, and jiewly risen day 
Peep'd o*er the hamlets on the first of May ; 
My eyes, too tender for the blaxe of light. 
Still sought the shelter of retiring night, 
When love approach 'd in painted plumes arrayed, 
Th* insidious god Iiis rattling darts botray'd, 
Nor loss his infant features and the sly, 
^weet intimations of his threatening eye* 
Such tl)e Sigeian boy is seen above, 
^'^^'mg thP go\^lBi for imperial Jove ; 



TRANShA'IlONS FROM MILTON. 1G9 
Bach he, on whom tho nymphs bcstow'd tkeir chalmi^ 
Hylas, who perished in a. Naiad's arms, 
Angry he aeem'd, yet gnjoofal in his ire, 
And added threats, not destitoite of firo. 
" My powiir/* he said, ^ by othcrs*')pmki alcm, 
Twere best to learn : now kara it by thy ««rn! 
With those, who feti my power, th»t peiw'r attMt ! 
And in thy an^sh*be my^sway coniesa'd I 
I vanquish 'd Ph<s!bas, thon^ r«t«mihg wvat 
From this new triumph o*er tbo Python ilain^ ' 
And, when he thinks on Daphne, even he > 

"Will yield the prize of archery to me. 
A dart less true the Parthian horseman sped, 
Behind him kilVd, and eonquer'd as he fled ; ^ 

Less true th' expert Cydonian, and less titie ^ 

Tho youth, whose shall hii latent Procrls slew. ^ 
Vanquished by me see hu|fe O^ion bend, 
By roe Alcides, and AKsid^s* friend. 
At me should Jove himself a bolt design, 
His bosom first sfaouM Meed trasisfix*^ 1^ iriine. 
But all thy doubts this shaft m'lYk best explain. 
Nor shall k rench thee with a trrrial pii4n> 
Thy Muse, Tain yolith ! ^1^1 not thy peace -ensitt^y 
Nor Phoebus* se^ttt ^\M the Wound a en^Sv** 



He spoke, and, wav^g: a bri^t shaft in air. 
Sought the warm bosom of the Cyprian fair. 

Thatihtis a^h^d ebotild bhirter in my Mtf, 
Provok'd ally laughter, move than mov'd my iewr, 
I shunn'd not, thereA»)e, ptibQok haunts, font str»y d 
Careless in city, or submbara idiade ; 
And passing, and repasshig, n;^phs, that mov'd 
With grace divine, behold where'er I rov*d. 
Bright shone the vernal day, with double blaze. 
As beauty gave new force to PhiBbus' rays ; 
By no grave scruples check'd I freely ey'd 
The dang'rous shuw : rash youtli my only guide ; 

Vol. UL 15 



m TRANSLATIONS FllOM MILTON. 
And many a look of many a fair unknown 
Met full unable to control my own. 
But one I mark'd, (then peace forsook my breast,) 
One — Oh how far superiour to the rest ! 
What lovely features ! such the CTyprian queen 
Herself might wish, and Juno wish her mien. 
The very nymph was rite, whom when I dar*d 
His. arrows, Lore, had even then prepar'd ! 
Nor was himself remote, nor unsupply^d 
With torch well-trimm*d and quiver at his side . 
Now to her lips he clung, her eyoUda now, 
Than settled on her cheeks, or on her brow, 
An(^with a thousand wounds from ev'ry part 

^ierc*d, and transpierced, my undefended hearty 

Wk fever, new to me, of fierce desire, 
Now seis'd my soul, and I was all on fire, 
But she, the while, whom only I adore. 
Was gone, and vanish'd, to appear no more. 
In silent sadness I pursue my way } 
I pause, I turn, proceed, yet wish to stay, 
And while I follow her in thought, bemoan 
With tears, my soul's delight so quickly flown. 
When Jove had hurrd him to the Lemnian coast. 
So Vulcan sorrowed for Olympus lost : 
And so Oeclides, sinking into night. 
From the deep gulf ltpk*d up to distant light. 

Wretch that I am^what hopes for me remair 
Who cannel eeaas to love, yet love ur vun ? 
Oh could I once, once more heboid the feir. 
Speak to her, tell her <^ the pan|{9 1 Deaf, 
^crhaps she is not adamant, woi*ld show 
Perhaps some pity at my tale of wo. 
Oh inasupicious flame — 'tis mine to prove 
A matchless instance of disastrous love. 
Ah spare me, gentle pow*r ! — If such thou be. 
Let not thy deeds, and nature, disagree. 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 17J 
8pare me, and I will worship at no shrine 
With TOW and sacrifice, save only thine. 
Now I revere th^ fires, thy bow, thy darts : 
Now own thee sov*reign of all human hearts. 
Remove ! no— grant me still this raging wo ! 
Sweet is the wretchedness that lovers know 
But pierce hereafter (should I chance to see 
One destin'd mine) at once both her and me. 

Such were the trophies, that, in earlier days, 
By yanity seduced, Itoil'd to raise. 
Studious, yet indolent, and urg'd by youth, 
That worst of teachers ! from the ways of truth i 
Till learning taught me, in his shady bow'r. 
To quit love's servile yoke, and spurn his pow'r. ^ 
Then, on a sudden, the fierce flame suppressed, 
A frost continual settled on my breast, 
Whence Cupid fears his flames extinct to 8ee« 
And Venus dreads a Diomede in me. 



EPIGRAMS. 

OH THE IlfVElfTOR 07 GUNS. 

Praise in old time the rage Prometheus won, 
Who stol* ethereal radiance from the sun ; 
But greater he, whose bold invention strove . ^ 
To emulate the fiery boHs of Jove. 



[The poems on the subject of the Gunpowder Trea* 
8on I have not translated, both because the matter of 
them )s unpleasant, and because they are written with 
anr asperity, which, however it might be warranted ia 
Milton's days, would be extremely unseason^le now.] 



(1») 



TO LEONORA SINGINO AT ROME.* 

Another Leonora once iii«^*4' 
Tasso, with fatal love to pluensj ^'d y 
But how much happier liv'd he now, were he, 
Piorc'd with whatever pangs for love of thee ! • 
Since could he hoar that heavenly voice o£ thine. 
With Adriana's lute of sound divine, 
Fiercer than Pentheus, though his eye might roll, 
Or idiot apa^y benumb his soul, ' 
»^Yoa still, with medicinal sounds, might cheer 
His senses wandering in a blind career ; 
An^ sweetly breathing through his wounded breast, 
Charm, with soul-soothing song, hislhonghts to rest 



TO THE SAME. 

Naples, too eredulous, ah .' boast no more 
The sweet-voic'd Si^on buried on thy shore, 
That, ^hon Parthenopo deceased, sh«> gave 
Her sacred dust to a Chalcidick grave^ 
For still she lives, but has exchanged the hoarse 
Pausiiipo for Tiber's placid eourse, 
Where, idol of all Rome, she now in chains 
Of magick song, both ^ods and men detains. 

** I' hov© translated oiUy two of- th« ibree poeueal conplf 
mcnis addressed to Lcoiiorn, as (key appear U> mo far- sups 
rJour to wba^ 1 have omitted. 



(m) 

THE COTTAGER AND HIS LANDLORD 



A PEASAKT to hif lord paid yearly court, 
Presenting pippins, of so rich a sort. 
That he, displeased to have a part alone, 
RemoY'd the tree, that all might be his own 
The tree, too old to travel, though before 
So fruitful, withered, and would yield no more. 
The 'squire, perceiving all his labour void, 
Curs'd his own pains, so foolishly employed, 
And " Oh," he cried, " that I had liv*d content 
With tribute, small indeed, but kindly meant ! 
My avarice has expensive prov'd to me. 
Has cost me both mj pippins and my tree " 



CHRISTUNA, QUEEN OP SWEDEN, 



CROMWELL'S PICTURE. 

Christiana, maiden of heroick mien ! 
Star or the north ! of northern stars the queen ! 
Behold what wrinkles I have eam*d, fnd how 
The iron casque still chafes my veteran brow, 
While following fate V dark footsteps, I fulfil 
, The dictates of a hardy people's will. 
But soften'd, in thy sight, my looks appeary 
Not to all Queens or Kings alike severe 
15* 



-Il 



(174) 
MISCELLANEOUS POEMS 



DEATH or THE VlCE-CHAlfeRhhCm^ 

A PHTSIGlAjr* 

IdbABic, ye nationt o£ tiiA ooiil^: 
Tbo oeadt^oil of y^mc birth^ 
Now ha tao^bt your foel^ state ! 
Kn^w that aU BNisi yield to £Ue! 

If the mournful rover, Death, 
Say but once — ^** i»e%n your breath !*' 
Vainly of escape you dream, 
Tou must pass the Sty^an stream. 

Could the stoutest overcome 
Death's assault, and baffle doom, 
Hercules had both withstood 
Undiseas'd by Nessus' blood. 

Ne'er had Hector press'd the plain 
By a trick of Pallas slain, 
Nor the chief to Jove allied 
By Aic^lles' pbaj»tom dMi 

Could enchantments life prolong; 
Circe sav'd by magick song^ 
Still had liv'd ; an equal skill 
Had preserved Medea still. 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 175 
Dwrit in herbs, and drugs, a pow*r 
To avert man's destin'd hour, 
Leam'd Machoan should have known 
Doubtless to avert his own. 

Chiron had ^orviv'd the smart 
Of the Hydra-tainted dart, 
And Jove^ bolt had beeU) wit^ease, 
Foil*d by Asclepiades. 
m 
. Thou too, s«|fo ! of whom fi^dorti 
Helicon and Cinrha mourn, 
Still hadst fiU'd thy prmcely pkee 
Regent of the gowned raee* 

Hadst advano'dtto higher fifeme 
Still, thy mueh-onitobled naine, 
Nor in Charon'9 skiff oxplor^d 
The Tartarean gulf abhorr'di 

But resentftd Pfoserpine, 
Jealou» of ^y sk^ ^vine, ' 
Sniping riMvt thy vital' tteeady 
Thee too Bumber'd with the deMl- 

Wise and good i ontiioohlod b* ^ 

The green turf thid. eovers thee 1^ 
ThenoOy ki gay prafusian, grow 
An the sweetest flow'rs that blow 

. Plato's conspri bid thea rest I 
JEacus pronoQBCiB thea Uastt 
To her home thy ibado wmtdgp^l 
Make Elysium ever thine ! 



(176) 



DEATH OF THE BISHOP OF ELY. 

ffritUm m tk* ^Ukor*s Vftk year. 

Mt lidi with ^ef wve tumid yet, 
And still my stdlied cheek was wet 
With briny dews, profosoly died 
For venerable Winton dead : 
When Fame, whose tales of saddest aevad, 
Alas ! are ever truest found, 
The news throug^h all our cities spread 
Of yet another mitred head 
By ruthless fate to death consi^'d, 
Ely, the honour of his kind ! 

At once, a storm of passion heated 
My boiling bosom, much 1 grieved, 
But mote I n^'d at ey'ry breath 
DeToting Death homself to death. 
With less revenge did Naso teem, 
# When hated Uus was Ins liieme ; 
With less, Arehikichos, denied 
The lovely Greek, his pronitt*d brido^ 

But lo ! while thus I execrate, 
Incens'd the minister of &te, 
Wondrous accents, soSfl, yet dear, 
Wafted on the gale I heiur. 

" Ah, much deluded ! lay aside 
Thy threats, and anger misapplied j 
Art not afraid with sounds like these, 
T' ofiend, where thou canst not appease 



TKANSLATIONS FROM MILTOIf. 177 
Death is not (whet eforc dream'st thou tluts ?) 
The son of Night 9nd Erebus : 
Nor was of fell Erynnis betrn 
On a^ulfs, where Chao* rules ^lom • * 
But, sent from God, his presence leaveiy 
To gather home his ri^a'4 sheaTeey 
To call encuraber'd souls away 
From fleshly bonds to boundless day, 
(As when tlie winged hours excite, 
And summon forth th% morning-light) 
And each to convoy to her place 
Btfore th'Eteraal Father's face. 
But not the wicked — ^them, severe 
Tet juikt ftom all their pteasnreft nMt 
He hurries to the realms belov^ 
Terriiick realms of penal wo ! 
Myself no seeder heard hiacAlH 
Than *scapj»g thfough »^ pirisDA-wt]^ 
I bade adieu to bolts and bm, 
And soar^d^ with a«|^, to Um stafs. 
Like him of old, to whom 'twas giv'n 
T» mouiH, OR fioffjF wheels^ io Iit0V*« 
Bootes' wagea> slew with cold, 
Appall'd m» Hoi > aerio- beheld. 
The sword, tb«^ v^ Orion draw% 
Or ev'n the Seoi^io«'» horrid (^«w% 
Beyond the sfuys bright ^li^ I %) 
And, far beneath my &et, desery 
Night's dread goddess, seei^ with aw«9 . 
Whom her winged dragons draw. 
Thus, ever wond'rii^ at my speed, 
Augmented still as I proceed^ 
I pass the planetary ^here. 
The Milky Way — ^aad now appear 
Heav'n's crystal battlements, her dooi 
Of massy poarl, and em'cald floor. 



178 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON 
Bat here I cease. For never can 
The tongue of once a mortal man 
In suitable description trace 
The pleasures of that happy place ; 
Suffice it, that those joys divine 
Are all, and all for ever, mine !*' 



NATURE UNIMPAIRED BY TIME, 

Ah, how the homan mind weartes herself 
S^ ith her own wanderings, and, involved in gloom 
Impenetrable, speculates amiss ! 
Measuring, in her folly, things divine 
By human ; laws Inscrib'd on adamant 
By laws of nan's device, and counsels fix'd 
For ever, by the hoars, that pass and die. 

How ! — shall the fhce of nature then be ploughed 
Into deep wrinkles, and shall years at last 
On the great Parent fix a sterile curse ? 
Shall even she confess old age, and halt, 
And, palsy-smkten, shake her starry brows .' 
Shall foul Antiquity with rust and drought, 
And Famine, vex the radiant worlds above .' 
Shall Timers unsated maw crave and ingulf 
The very Heav'ns, that regulate his flight f 
And was the Sire of all ^ble to fence 
His works, and to uphold the circling worlds. 
But, through improvident and heedless haste. 
Let slip th* occasion ? — so then — all is lost — 
And in some future evil hour, yon arch 
Shall crumble, and come thundering down, the pofef 
Jar in collision, the Olympian king 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 179 
Fall with his throno, and Pallaa, holding forth 
The terroors of the Gorgon shield in vain, 
Shall rush to the abyss, like Vulean hurPd 

# Down into Lemnos, through the gate of HeaT*ii 
Thou also, with precipitated wheels, 
Phoebus ! thy own son's iall shalt imitate, 
With hideous ruin shalt impress the deep 

f Suddenly, and the flood shall reek, and hiss 
At the extinction* of the lamp of day. 
Then too shall H«mns, cIoTon to his base, 
Be 8faalter*d, and the huge Ceraunian hills^ 
Once weapons of Tertarean Dis, immersed 
In ErebulJ shaQ fill himself with fear. 

No. The Almighty Father surer laid 
His deep foundations, and providing well 
For the event of all, the scales of Fate 
Suspended, in just equipoise, and bade 
His universal works, from age to age. 
One tenour hold, perpetual, undisturb'd 

Hence the prime mover wheels itself about 
Continual, day by day, and with it bears 
In social measure swift the heav'ns around. 
Not tardier now is Satan than of old. 
Nor radiant less the burning casque of Mars, 
Phoebus, his vigour unimpaired, still shows 
Th' effulgence of his youth, nor needs the god 
A downward course, that he may warm the vales; 
But, ever rich in influence, runs his road. 
Sign after sign, through all the heav'nly zone. 
Beautiful, as at first, ascends the star 
From odorifrous Ind, whose office is 
To gather home betimes th' ethereal flock, 
To pour them o'er the skies again at eve. 
And to discriminate the night and day. 
Still Cynthia's changeful horn waxes, and wanes. 
Alternate, and with arms extended still 



180 TRAN&i.ATlOXS FROM MILTOK, 

She welcomes to her bretst her brother's beaBMy 

Nor have the elements deserted yet 

Their functions ; thtiader, with as loud a stroke 

As ertt, smites through the rocks, and scatters them ^ 

The east still howb, etiii |he relentless north 

Inrades the shudd'Hng Scythian, still he breathei 

The winter, •md still roUe the storms along. 

The king ef ocmui, inth his wonted Ibrce^ 

Beats on Peloros, o'er the deep is heard 

The hoarse akrm of TeU^'* sminding shell, 

If at swim th« moafltere.of the £gean sea 

in shallows, or bMteath diminish'd waves. 

Thou too, thy ancient vegetative pow'r , • 

£njoy*st, O Earth ! Narcissus still is sweet, 

And Phoebus ! stUl iky favourite, and still 

Thy favVito Cythereat both retain 

Their beauty, nor the mountains, ore-enrich 'd 

For punishment of mittr with purer gold 

Teem'd ever, or wilh brighter gems the Deep 



Thus, in unbroken scries, all proceeds *, 
And shall, till wide involving either pole. 
And the immensity of yonder heav'a. 
The final flaaioa of dostiiiy nbaorb 

oe world consua^cl hi cmo epormous pyre i 



i 



1 



(181) 



PLATONICK roEA, 



AS IT WAS VHDERSTOOD BT ABISTOTLB. 

Tx lister pow'rs, who o*er the sacred groves 
Preside, and thou, fair mother of them all, « 

Mnemosyne ! and, thoa, who in thy grot 
Immense, recUn'd at leisure, hast in charge 
The archives^ and the ordinances of Jove, 
And dost record the festivals of heav'n, 
Eternity ! — inform us who is He, v 

That great original hy nature chos'n 
To be the archetype of human kind, 
Unchangeable, immortal, with' the poles 
Themselves' coeval, one, yet ev'ry where. 
An miage of the god, who gave him being f 
Twin-brother of the goddess born from Jove. 
He dwells not in his father's mind, but, though 
Of common nature with ourselves, exists 
.Apart, and occupies a local home. 
Whether, companion of the stars, he spend 
Eternal ages, roaming at bis will 
From sphere to sphere the tenfold heaves, or dwell 
On the moon's side that nearest neighbours earth, 
Or torpid on the banks of Lethe sit 
Among tlie multitude of souls ordain*d 
To flesh and blood, or whether (as may chance) 
That vast and giant model of our kind 
(n some far distant region of this globe " 
Sequestered stalk, with lifted head on high 
O'ertow'ring Atlas, on whose shoulders rest 
The stars, terrifick even to the gods. 
Vol.. III. 16 



182 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 
Neyer tlie Theban seer, whose blindness prov d 
His best illamination, him beheJd 
In secret vision ; never hiin the son 
Of Pleione, amid the noiseless night 
Descendi^, to the prophet-choir reveal'd ; 
Him never knew th* Assyrian priest who jet 
The ancestry of Ninus chronicles. 
And Belos, and Osiris, fiir renown'd ; 
Nor even thrice great Hecmes, although skill 'd 
So deep in myst'iy, to the worshippers 
Of Isis.show'd a prodigy like him 

And thou, who hast immortaliz*d the shades 
Of Academus, if the schools received 
This monster of the &ncy first from thee, 
Either recall at once the banlsh'd bards 
To thy republick, or thyself evinc'd 
A wilder fabulist, go also forth. 



TO HIS FATHER. 



Oh that Pieria*s spring would thro* my breast 
Four its inspiring influence, and rush 
No rill, but rather an o'erflowing flood I 
That, for my venerable Father's sake, 
All meaner themes renounc'd, ray muse, on wings 
Of duty borne, might reach a loftier strain. 
For thee, my Father ! howsoe'er it please, 
. She frames tliis slender work, nor know I aught, 
That may thy gifts more suitably requite; 
Though to requite tliem suitably would ask 
Rctvrof much nobler, and surpassing far 
Th© m/Bag.r« ^ores of verbal gratitude 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON 183 
But, such as I possess, I send theo all, 
This page presents thee in their full amount 
With thy son's treasures, and the sum is nought , 
Nought, save the riches that from airy dream 
In secret grottos, and in laurel bow'rs, 
I have, by golden Clio's gift, acquired. 

Verse is a work divine ; despise not thou 
Verse therefore, which evinces (nothing more) 
Man's heavenly source, and which, retaining still * 
Some scintillations of Promethean fire. 
Bespeaks him animated from above. 
The Gods love verse ; the infernal powers themselvM 
Confess the influence of verse, which stirs 
The lowest deep, and binds in triple chains 
Of adamant both Plato and the Shades. 
In verse the Delphick priestess, and the pale 
Tremulous Sybil, make the future known. 
And he wlio sacrifices on the shrine 
Jiangs verse, both when he smites the threat'ning ball 
And when he spreads his reeking entrails wide 
To scrutinize the Fates envoldp'd there. 
We too, ourselves, what time we seek again 
Our native skies, and one eternal now 
Shall be the only measure of our being, 
CrowVd all with gold, and chanting to the lyre 
Hannomous verse, shall range the courts above^ 
And make the starry firmament resound 
And, even now, the fiery Spirit pure 
That wheels yon circling orbs, directs, himself. 
Their mazy dance with melody of verso 
Unutt*rable, immortal, hearing which 
Huge Ophinchus holds his hiss suppress'd, 
Orion softened, drops his ardent blade. 
And Atlas stands unconscious of his load. 
Verse grac'd of old the feasts of kings, ere yet 
Luxurious dainties, destin*d to the gulf 
Immense of gluttony, were known, and ere 



184 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON 
Lyseus dclug'd yet the temp'rate board. - 
Then sat the bard a customary guest 
To share the banquet, and, his length of locks 
With beechen honours bound, proposed in verse, 
The characters of heroes, and their deeds, 
To imitation, sang of Chaos old. 
Of nature's birth, of gods that crept in search 
Of acorns falFn, and of the thunderbolt 
Not yet produc'd from Ikna's fiery cave. 
And what avails, at last, tuno without voice, 
Devoid of matter ? Such may suit ))erhaps 
The rural d^ce, but such was ne'er the song 
Of Orpheus, whom the streams stood still to hear 
And the oaks foUow'd. Kot by chords alone 
Well touch'd, but by resistless accents more, 
To sympathetick tears the ghosts themselves 
He mov'd ; these praises to his verse he owes. 

Nor thou persist^ I pray thee, still to sliglit 
The sacred Nine, and to imagine vain 
And useless, pow'rs by whom inspir'd, thyself 
Art skilful to associate verse with airs 
Harmonious, and to give the human voice 
A thousand modulations, heir by right 
Indisputable of Arion's fame. 
Now say, what wonder is It, if a son 
Of thine delight in verse, if so conjoin'd 
In close affinity, we sympathize 
In ilocial arts, and kindred studies sweet ? 
Such distribution of himself to us 
Was Phosbus' choice : thou hast thy gift, and I 
Mine also, and between us we receive. 
Father and Son, the whole inspiring God. 

No ! howsoever the semblance thou assume 
Of hate, thou hatest not the gentle Muse, 
My father ! for thou never oad'st me tread 
The beaten path, and broad, that lead'st right on 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MIJLTON. 186 
To opulence, nor didst condemn thy son 
To the insipid clamours of the har, 
To laws voluminous, and ill observ'd ; 
But, wishing to enrich me more, to fill 
My mind with treasure, led'st me far away 
From city-din to deep retreats, to banks 
And streams Aonian : and, with free consent. 
Didst place me happy at Apollo's side. 
I speak not now, on more important themes 
Intent, of common benefits, and such 
As nature bids, but of thy larger gifls, 
My Father ! who, when I had open'd onco 
The stores 6f Roman rhetorick, and learn 'd 
The fuU-ton'd language of the eloquent Greeks. 
Whose lofty musick grac'd the lips of Jove, 
Thyself didst counsel me to add the flow'rs 
That Gallia boasts, those too, with which the nnooti 
Italian his degenerate speech adorns. 
That witnesses his mixture with the Goth ; 
And Palestine's prophetick songs divine 
To sum the whole, whate'er the heav'n contains, 
The earth beneath it, and the air between, 
The rivers and the restless deep may all 
Prove intellectual gain to me, my wish 
Concurring with thy will ; science herself; 
All cloud remov'd, inclines her beauteous head. 
And offers me the lip, if, dull of heart, 
I shrink not, and decline her gracious boon. 

Go now, and gather dross, ye sordid mmds. 
That covet it ; what could my Father more ? 
What more couid Jove himself, unless he gave 
His own abode, the heav'n, in which he reigns 'f 
More eligible gifts than these were not 
Apollo*8 to hi« son, had they been safe, ' 
As they were insecure, who made the boy 
The world's vice-luminary, bade him rule 
The radia vt chariot of the day, and bind 
16» 



186 TKAI^SLATIONS FROM MILTON. 
To his young brows his own all-dazzling wreath. 
I therefore, although last and least, my place 
Among the learned in the laurel grove 
Will hold, and where the conqu'ror's ivy twines, 
Henceforth exempt from the unletter'd throng 
Profane, nor even to be seen by such. 
Away, then, sleepless Care, Complaint, away, 
And, Envy, with thy "jealous leer malign !*' 
Nor let the monster Calumny shoot forth 
Her venom'd tongue at me Detested foes ! 
Ye all are impotent against my peace, 
For I am privilog'd, and bear my breast 
Safe, and too high, for your viperean lyound. 

But thou I my Father, since to render thanks 
Equivalent, and to requite by deeds 
Thy liberality, exceeds my power. 
Suffice it, that I thus record thy gifts. 
And bear them treasured in a grateful mind ! 
Ye too, the favourite pastitae of my youthj 
My voluntary numbers, if ye dare 
To hope longevity, and to survive 
Your master's funeral, not soon absotb*d 
In the oblivious Lethsean gulf. 
Shall to futurity perhaps cdnv6y 
This theme, and by these praises of my sire 
Improve the Fathers of a distiiirt a^e 1 



(187) 



TO 



SALSILLUS, A BOJMAN POET 
MUCH INDISFOSEID 



The original k Written in a meyasure called Seazon^ 
which signifies limptngf and the measore is so deno- 
minated, because, though in other rejects lambick, it 
terminates with a Spondee, and has conseqoentij a 
more tardy movement. 

The reader will immediately see that this property 
of the Latin verse cannot be imitated in EngHsk 



Mr halting Muse, that dragg'st by choice aloi^ 
Thy slow, slow step, in melancholy song, 
And lik'st that pace, expressive of thy cares. 
Not less than Diopeia's sprightlier airs, 
When, in the dance, she beats, with measured treadj 
Heav*n*s floor, in front of Juno's golden bed ; 
Salute Salsillus, who to verse divine 
Prefers, with partial love, such lays as mine. 
Thus writes that Milton then, who wafled o'er 
From his own nest, on Albion's stormy shore. 
Where Eurus, fiercest of the £olian band^ 
Sweeps, with ungovem'd rage, the blasted land» 
Of late to more serene Ausonia came 
To view her cities of illustrious name, 



188 TRANSLATIONS lilOM MILTON. 
To prove himaelf a witness of the truth, 
How wise her elders, and how learn'd her youth. 
Much good, Salsillas ! and a bodjr free 
From all disease, that Milton asks for thee, 
Who now endur'st the languor, and the pains, 
That bile inflicts, diffused through all thy Teins, 
Relentleis malady ! act moy'd to spare 
By thy sweet Roman voice, an(} Lesbian air ! 

Health, Hebe's sister sent us from the skies, 
And thou, Apollo, whom all sickness flies, 
Pythius, or Paean, or what name divine 
8oe*er thou choose, baste, heal a priest of thine! 
* Te groves of Faunus, and ye hiUs, thai melt 
With vinous dews, where meek Evander dwelt ! 
If aught salubrious in your confines grow, 
Strive which shall soonest heal your poet's wo. 
That, rendered to the Muse he loves, agam 
He may enchant the meadows with his strain. 
Numa, reclin'd in everlasting ease, ^ 
Amid the shade of dark embowering trees. 
Viewing with eyes of unabated fire 
His lov*d iEgeria, shall that strain admire : 
80 sooth'd, ihQ tumid Tiber shall revere 
The tombs of kings, nor desolate the year^ 
Shall curb his waters with a friendly reia, 
And guide them harmlessly till they meet the main. 



X189) 

TO 

GIOVANNI BATTISTA MANSO, 

MARQUIS or VILLA. 

MILTON'S ACCOUNT OF MANSO. 

Giovanni Baftista Manso, Marquis of Villa, is an 
Italian nobleman of the highest estimation among his 
countrymen, for geniqs, literature, and military ac- 
complishments. To him Torquato Tasso addressed 
his Dialogues on Friendship, for he was much tho 
friend of Tasso, who has also celebrated him among 
the other Princes of hil cduntry, in hb poem, entitled, 
Gerusalemme Conquistata, book xx, 

Fra cavalier magnanimi, e cortesi, 

Ri^lende il Manso. 
During the Author's stay at Naples, he received at 
the hands of the Marquis a thousand kind offices and 
civilities, and, desirous not to appear ungrateful, 
sent him this poem a short time before his departure 
from thait city. 



These verses also to thy praise the Nino, 
Oh Manso ! liappy in that theme, design. 
For, Gallus and McBcenas gone, they see 
None such besides, or whom they love as thee ; 
And, if my verse may give the meed of fame, 
Thine too shall prove an everlasting name. 
Already such, it shines in Tasso's page 
(For thou wast Tasso's friend) from age to age, 



I!)0 TKAxNSLATJONS FROM MILTON. 

And, next, the Muse consign'd (not unaware 

How high tlic charge) Marino to thy care, 

Who, singing to the nymphs, Adonis' praise. 

Boasts tliee tlie patron of his copious lays. 

To thee alone the poet would entrust 

His latest vows, to thee alone his dust ; 

And thou witli punctual piety hast paid, , 

In laboured brass, thy tribute to liis sliade. 

Nor this contented thee — but lest the grave 

Should aught absorb of theirs which thou couldst 

save, 
All future ages thou hast deign 'd to teach 
The life, lot, genius, character of each, 
Eloquent as the Carian sage, who true 
To his great theme, the life of Homer drew. 

I, therefore, though a stranger youth, who come 
Chill'd by rude blasts, that freeze my northern home, 
Thee dear to Clio, confident jfroclaim, 
And thine, for Phsbus's sake, a deathless name. 
Nor thou, so kind, wilt view with scornful eye 
A muse scarce rear'd beneath out BuHen sky, 
Who fears not, indiscreet as she is young, 
To seek in Latium hearers of her song. 
We too, where TJiames with his unsullied waves 
The tresses of tlie blue-hair'd Ocean laves, 
Hoar ofl by night, or, slumb'ring, seem to hear, 
O'er his wide stream, the swan's voice warbling clear, 
An^ we could boast a Tityrus of yore, 
Who trod, a welcome guest, your happy shore. 

Yes— dreary as we own our Northern clime, 
E'en we to Phoebus raise the polish'd rhyme, 
We too servo Phoibus ; Phoebus has receiv'd 
(If legends old may claim to be believ'd) 
No sordid gifts from us, the golden ear, 
The bumbh'd apple, ruddiest of the year, 



/ 



TRANSLATIONS FROM xMILTON. 191 
The fragrant crocus, and to grace his fane, 
Fair damsels chosen from the Druid train ; 
Druids, our native hards in ancient time, 
Who gods and heroes prais'd in hallow'd rhyme ! 
Hence, often as the maids of Greece surround 
Apollo's shrine with hymns of festive sound, 
THby name the virgins who arriv'd of yore, 
With British ofTrings, on the Delian shore, 
Lozo, from giant Corineus sprung, 
Upis, on whose blest lips the future hung, 
And Hecaerge, with the golden hair, 
All deck'd with Pictish hues, and all with bosomi bare 

Thou, therefore, happy sage, whatever clime 
Shall ring with Tasso's praise in after-time, 
Or with Marino's, shalt be known their friend, 
And with an equal flight to fame ascend. 
The world shall hear how Phcsbus, and the Nine, 
Were inmates once, and willing guests of thine. 
Tet PhoBbus, when of old constrained to roam 
The earth, an exile from his heavenly home, 
Enter'd, no willing guest, Admetus' door, 
Though Hercules had ventur'd there before. 
But gentle Chiron's cave was near, a scene 
Of rural peace, cloth!d with perpetual green. 
And thither, oft as respite he requir'd 
From rustick clamours loud, the god retir'd. 
There, many a time, on Peneus' bank reclin'd 
At some oak's root, with ivy thick entwin'd. 
Won by his hospitable friend's desire. 
He sooth'd his pains of exile witli the lyre. 
Then shook the hills, then trembled Peneus' shore 
Nor CEta felt his load of forests more ; 
The Upland elms descended to the plain, ' 

And soften'd lynxes wonder'd at the strain. 

Well may we think, O dear to all above ! 
Thy birth distinguish'd by the smile of Jove ; 



192 TEANSLATIONS FUOM MILTON. 

And that Apollo shed his kindliest pow'r, 

AndJIdaia's son, on that propitious hour, 

Since only minds so born can comprehend 

A poet*8 worth) or yield' that worth a friend. 

Hence, on thy yet unfaded cheek appears 

The lingering freshness of thy greener years j 

Hence, in tliy front and features, we admire 

Nature unwither'd, and a mind entire. • 

Oh might 80 true a friend to me belong, 

So skiird to grace the yotailes of song. 

Should^I recall hereafter into rhyme 

The kings and heroes of my native cUmOy 

Arthur the chief, who even now prepares, 

In subterraneous being, future wars. 

With an his' martial knights, to be restor'd, 

Each to his seat, around the federal board, 

And Oh, if spirit fail me not, disperse 

Our Saxon plunderers, in triumphant rerse t 

Then, afler all, when, with the past content, 

A life I fiilish; not in silence spent. 

Should he, kind mourner, o er my death-bed bendi 

I shall but need to say — " Bo yet my friend T 

He, too, perhaps, shall bid the marble breathe 

To honour me, and with the graceful wieatHi 

Or of Parnassus,, or the Papbian. isjp, 

Shall bind my brows — but I sliall rest the w\vJ» 

Then also, if the fruits pf faith endure. 

And virtue's promised recompense be sure,, 

Bom to those seats, to which the blest ^fi^^ 

By purity of soul, and virtuoua fire, 

These rites, as Fate permits, I shall survey 

With eyes illumin'd by celestial day, 

And, every cloud from my pure spirit drlv(2ii) 

Joy in the bright beatitude of Heaven ' 



(193) 



dltviai 



DEATH OF &AMON. 



THE ARGUMENT. , 

Thyrsis and Damon, shepherds and neighbours, had 
always pursued the same studies, and had, from their 
earliest days, heen united in the closest friendship. 
Thyrsis, while travelling for Improvemont, received 
intelligence of the death of Damon, and, af^er a time, 
returning and finding it true, deploresk liimself, and his 
solitary condition, in this poem. 

By Damon is td be understood Qmrlea Diodati, 
conneeted with the Italian city of Lucca by his father's 
side, in other respects an Englishman ; a youth of un 
common genius, eruditicm, and virtue. 



Yk Nymphs of Himera, (for ye have shed, 
£rewhile for Daplmis, and for Hylas dead, 
. And over Bion*s long-lamented bier. 
The fruitless meed of manyli. sacred tear,) 
Now through the villas lav'd by Thames, rehoarso 
The woes of Thjrrsis in Sicilian, verse. 
What sighs he heav*d, and how with groans profound 
He made the woods and hollow rocks resotind, 
Toung Damon dead ; nor even cens'd to pour 
His lonely sorrows at the midnight hour. 
Vol. m. 17 



194 TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 

The green wheat twice had nodded in the ear, 
And golden harvest twice enriched the year. 
Since Damon's lips had gasp'd for vital air 
The last, last time, nor Thyrsis yet was there ; 
For he, enamour'd of the Muse, remained 
In Tuscan Fiorenza long detained, 
• But, stor'd at length with all he wish'd to learn, 
For his flock's sake now hasted to return, 
And wh^n the shepherd had resumed his seat 
At the elm's root, within his old retreat. 
Then 'twas his lot, then, all his loss to know, 
And, from«his burthen'd heart, he vented thus his wa 

'* €k>, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are 
due 
To other cares, than those o£ feeding you. 
Alas, what deities shall I suppose 
In heaven, or earth, concerned for human woes. 
Since, O my Damon I their Fevcre decree 
So soon condenfns lue to regret of iiioc I 
Depart'st thou thus, thy virtues unrepaid 
With fame and honour, like a volga^ shade ? 
Let him forbid it, whose bright rod controls, 
And sep'rates sordid from illi^strious souls, 
Drive far the rabble, and to thee assign 
A happier lot, with spirits worthy tiiine ! 

" Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are 
due 
To other cares, than those of feeding you. 
VVhate'er befall, imless by cruel chance. 
The wolf first give me a forbidding glance, 
Thou shalt not moulder undeplor'd, but long 
Thy praise shall dwell on every shepherd's tongue 
To Dapbnis first they shall dol'ght to pay, 
And, after him, to thee the votive lay, 
While Pales shall the flocks and p.istures love, 
Or Faunus to frequerAt the field or grove, 



TRANSLATIONS FROM MILTON. 195 
At least, if Ancient piety and truth, 
With all the learned labours of thy youth, 
May serve thee aught, or to have left behind 
A sorrowing friend, and of the tuneful kind. 

" Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are 
due * 

To other eare^, than those of feeding you. 
Yes, Damon ! such thy sure reward shall be , 
Bat ah, what doom awaits unhappy me ? 
Who, now, my pains and perils shall divide. 
As thou wast wont, for ever at my side. 
Both when the rugged frost annoy'd our feet, 
And when the herbage all was parch'd with heat ; 
Whether the grim woirs ravage to prevent, 
Or the huge lion's, arm'd with darts we went ? 
Whose converse, now, shall calm my stormy day, 
With charming song,*who now beguile my way ? 

" Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts aro 
due 
To other cares, than those of feeding yotr. 
In whom shall I confide ? Whose counsel find 
A balmy medicine for my troubled mind ? 
Or whose discourse, with innocent delight, 
Shall fill me now, and cheat the wmt'ry night, 
While hisses on my hearth the pulpy pear, 
And black*ning chestnuts start and crackle there, 
While storms abroad the dreary meadows whelm, 
And the wind thunders thro* the neighb'ring ehn. 

" Go, seek your home, my lambs ; my thoughts are 
due 
To other cares, than those of feeding you. 
Or who, when summer suns their summit reach. 
And Pan sleeps hidden by the shelt'ring beech, 
When shepherds disappear, nymphs seek the sedge, 
And the stretch'd rustick snores beneath the bodge, 



im TRANSLATIONS FROM MlLTO». 
Who then shall render me thy pleasant yein 
Of Attick wit, thy jest*, thy ainiles agaii^ 

** Go, sttok yooE homp, my huobs ; my tbon^^hta a^a 
due 
To other oaraiy thaa thoie 4>f feeding you. 
Where glens and vales are thickest oyer^rQwn 
With tangled boughs, I waijyder upw alone, 
Till night descend, while blust'ring wu>4 m^j] sl^ow'f 
Beat on my temp